Fix You
by Cassandra's Dream
Summary: Daryl cleared his throat. "Ya don't haf'ta be scared of me," he admitted gruffly, before the moment passed. I glanced at his face, seeing how nervous he looked when saying it. He was basically admitting that we were... friends? I smiled. "I know that now. And I'm glad." Slow-build, season 2, eventual Daryl/OC; drama/humor/romance. FULL SUMMARY INSIDE.
1. When you try your best

******Full Summary:** Kathleen is living with the Greenes when the Grimes Group shows up. She does her part, helps Hershel with his "medical practice" - but she can't quite make friends with the new guys. She'll be the first to admit that she doesn't like strangers and can barely even talk to them, let alone confide in them. But maybe they're not all strangers... Maybe she knows that rough-looking, hot-as-hell redneck from days long before all this apocalypse nonsense. But does he know her? If Kathleen can talk to him, can get him to remember the past... she thinks they just might have a future.

Friendship first, slow-build romance Daryl/OC with a strong dash of humor and lots of love for Maggie, Hershel, and Carl.

* * *

**A/N: Okay soooooooooooo. I'm a littler nervous about this, but I've had an idea for an OC for awhile now. And this is the result of that. The plan is to have it be a very eventual Daryl/OC? But through the second season (aka, this story), it's gonna be a lot of friendship and build up. Then third season (potential sequel to this story), the romance is gonna be more... well, there. I figured Daryl wouldn't really jump into anything, ya know? Apocalypse or no. But don't give up on this yet! There's gonna be a lot of romantic tension, which I know we all love. So for now, just stay tuned, and tell me what you think.**

The farm was a quiet place, in general. It had been before, whenever I had visited Maggie back in our school days. And after everything with my accident, and the apocalypse, or whatever we were calling it, when I had officially moved in, it hadn't changed. Still so... quiet.

Well. Until today.

I had been out on the porch all morning, with Maggie, reading. There were birds and crickets out, chirping in their own ways. The sun was shining. A light breeze occasionally hit my face. I was considering taking a nap... Or maybe putting on a swimsuit to tan... Did I even have one of those anymore? Does one tan, casually, during an apocalypse? It was a good day for it, regardless... But then something changed. There was something else: there was a man in the field, running and carrying something in his arms, clutched to his chest.

Maggie saw him through her binoculars and yelled for her father, going inside to get him. But I stayed where I was, watching, waiting for him to get closer and closer, seeing the little boy he carried in his arms... how red the stain on his clothes was...

Suddenly, almost the entire Greene family was present, Hershel, of course, at the front while the rest looked on.

"Was he bit?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.

"Shot. By your man. He said find Hershel," the man gasped out, readjusting his hold on the boy. "That you?"

Oh no. Otis. I felt the frown mar my features as everyone started to move.

Patricia was asking about Otis, which the stranger ignored, and Hershel was starting to list off medical necessities as they made their way inside. Hershel motioned for me to follow as we moved, and I dutifully obeyed, keeping my eye on the new man. He was in shock. At least, I think he was, based on the wide eyes and shallow breathing. The boy was his son, based on his rambling exclamations. He didn't even know if he was alive... My heart went out to him as I followed Hershel's instructions.

What had happened out in those woods? I didn't really know what to think- who the man was, why they were in the woods, who had shot the boy... But the look on his face... it was heartbreaking. I knew Hershel felt the same way. He was all about tough love when it came to his family, loyal to them before all others, even unto death- well, in a manner of speaking. Death seemed a little ambiguous these days... But, really, Hershel was a bleeding heart and couldn't resist helping others when given the opportunity.

Everyone was crowded in that little back room, trying to see what was happening; but Hershel made sure that Patricia and I, especially, were close so we could help him operate. The two of us together didn't have nearly as much experience as he did, even if he was only a vet. But we certainly knew our way around medicine better than the rest of the family. So we went to work, while Maggie tried to keep the others at bay. Hershel found a cloth, asked the father to keep pressure on the wound. The man kept asking if his son was alive, and I think we were all holding out breath a little as Hershel pulled out his stethoscope to listen at the boy's chest.

A pause. Another.

And there was a pulse.

Suddenly our actions became more purposeful, more driven. We needed room, more gauze, antiseptic, and we definitely needed to thank Maggie later for making the room a little less crowded. Only Hershel, Patricia and I were still back there, working, all silently thankful that the injury wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. We were keeping pressure, monitoring as best as we could, planning our next move. But then Rick came back in, with Otis and another man. He still looked horrible, the blood stain on his shirt almost as large as the one on the boy's had been. That much blood lost... It would need to be replenished. Hershel asked Rick about the boy's blood type, confirmed that they matched. I could almost see the relief on Hershel's face. I knew he was nervous, practicing medicine on a human; but transfusions he could handle.

Then they began to talk about what happened. It was horrible. Six fragments? And all so the kid could appreciate the beauty of nature? The world really had turned upside down. Beyond that, it was a wonder the boy wasn't bleeding even more. Rick seemed to remember something then. He began to look even more upset, mentioning his wife. His friend tried to comfort him, and behind them, I saw Patricia comforting Otis.

Poor Otis. That man was a giant teddy bear. He was probably feeling almost as bad as Rick was...

After that it was more waiting. I stayed with the boy, who I now knew to be Carl, while Patricia and Maggie went to the other room to gather more supplies. He was so... small. So pale. His hair, dark like his fathers, was straight and plastered around his forehead, stuck to the cold sweat on his skin. I brushed some of it back. I really couldn't get over how small he was... When was the last time we'd seen a child? Beth was the youngest around here and she was, what, sixteen? Seventeen? I wasn't even sure. The boy was just so young.

Using a cloth, I wiped at his forehead. His features would twitch occasionally. He was definitely in pain. Patricia and Maggie returned with the extra supplies, and we immediately set about trying to remove some of the fragments. After agonizing moments of just watching Hershel operate, and a good amount of pain on Carl's part, we finally had one of the pieces almost out. But he was losing blood too fast. We needed a donation from Rick.

Maggie got him from the other room. Carl was crying, screaming for his father, who, of course, panicked. His friend held Carl down, telling Rick to hurry. I kept trying to grab Rick's arm to get the needle in, but he wouldn't stay still. When his friend started yelling at him, though, he seemed to focus. It didn't take long after to start siphoning the red fluids, prepping a bottle to transfer it to Carl... who had suddenly stopped screaming...

Hershel reassured the men that he had just passed out; but the looks on their faces... they were definitely more aware than ever of the danger of the situation. Hershel took the opportunity to continue the operation, finally pulling the bullet fragment out. With Carl still unconscious and the promise of fresh blood nearby, he kept trying, seeing if he could reach any more of the metal pieces. After a moment, though, he gave up. The rest were too deep.

Hershel went to clean himself up, and I applied a fresh bandage to the wound, noticing how shallow Carl's breathing had become. Rick was still letting blood flow into the bottle, looking paler by the minute, talking about his wife.

He wanted to go find her. But he needed to stay, for the blood, for Carl. We all knew it. But we all also could see how the boy's mother would want to know about her son getting shot. After listening to him keep talking for a few more moments, I turned back to Rick. He'd given enough for the time being. He almost fell when he stood, but his friend was there to catch him. The two left the room. I could hear them talking on the other side of the door, and I looked to Hershel.

He must have been able to see the fear on my face. I wasn't about to deny that I was feeling it. I mean, hello? This boy could die. And he was _just_ a boy. It wasn't even from infection- from a bullet. Accidentally. These people didn't deserve this. Nobody did. But then, of course, I was thinking about Rick and his friend and Carl, and how they were strangers, which was a whole different matter entirely... I didn't exactly like strangers, to be honest... I felt a little bit better, though, when Hershel suddenly he reached across and held my shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Kathleen. It'll all be fine," he said in his comforting, wise old man voice.

"You don't know that" I whispered back, gazing down at Carl's face.

"I don't. But I didn't say it'd be easy, either. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've still got some bad news for the boy's father... It's going to be a struggle for them both, I think."

"You couldn't reach the other pieces?"

"No... No, they're too deep. And he has some internal bleeding. But he might still make it." A sigh was my only response. "You stay in here with the boy. I'm going to go talk to Rick."

"Okay."

He patted my shoulder again and opened the door. I could hear the whole conversation from where I was, the weight of the bad news. I heard Rick's hopeful responses. And I also heard Otis's idea of the high school.

Rick's friend- had he called him Shane?- volunteered to go. So did Otis.

I didn't like that. That place had to be full of Walkers... Who would want to put their family in danger? Especially when family was so hard to come by these days? But then I looked at Carl again, at the faint red circle showing through the bandage on his chest... He was family too, for them. And I knew Otis wouldn't back down. He was stubborn. And, based on how he had reacted earlier, holding Carl down and yelling at Rick, I guess Shane wouldn't either. They were going to go to the shelter, and we wouldn't be able to stop them. Otis was determined to use his guilt and his experience to bring him there and back. And Shane... well, he wanted to help Rick. Or something. I wasn't sure yet.

They were already getting ready to leave, wanting to get back as soon as they could, when I heard Maggie form her own plan to bring Carl's mom back. I didn't like that, either, but she was more stubborn than Otis. And hopefully, on horseback, she could avoid any walkers.

Hershel came back into the room with Rick to check on Carl. I didn't go say goodbye to Otis or Maggie, not thinking anything of their leaving. They'd be back soon enough.

Instead, I stayed by Carl's side. And as I waited, I said a silent prayer that he would be okay. That they all would be okay.

* * *

With everyone gone, the farm became almost as quiet as it had been before all the excitement. With the addition of the dying boy and dutiful father, of course. We hadn't left the room, all just silent, staring, waiting.

I took the opportunity to examine Rick. He was a sheriff, or a deputy, or some kind of policeman, according to the badge on his chest. His uniform was ruined now, though. That stain would never some out. It was one of those stains that would always be there, even if you couldn't see it anymore. I noticed he kept touching his head. Whether he was rubbing at the dark hair on his scalp or letting his fingers ghost across his jaw... the man kept moving. Since he was staring at the floor, lost in thought, I felt comfortable enough to look at his face. It definitely looked kind enough, I guess. Long, a little drawn, looking more tired than I'm sure it normally would have, given the circumstances. Brows, dark like his hair, hovered over wide blue eyes. His nose was strong and led down to chapped lips. Overall, he looked like a good man. Trustworthy. Fathering.

I figured now would be a safe time to judge a book by its cover, since nobody was around to judge me for doing so. Plus: apocalypse. You gotta kinda make decisions fast. And right then, I decided that I liked Rick. I mean, I wasn't about to spill all my secrets to him... We hadn't even said anything to each other. But if he treated his friends anything like his family, then I wouldn't mind having him be a friend. Or at least a friend to my family.

After almost another fifteen minutes, Rick was the first to move, standing up and walking out. My eyes followed him out of the room. I heard the screech of the front screen opening and closing. Hershel looked at me. "You'll stay?"

"Yes."

He nodded and followed Rick to the porch. I imagined he was passing some kind of wisdom along to the younger man. He'd done it to me more times than I could count. Hershel had this... way about him. He was so gentle, so sincere. I always listened to everything he said, even if I didn't always believe it. Hell, he'd even turned out to be wrong sometimes... but I couldn't never turn down his advice. Could never question his intentions. He was just that _way_, ya know?

I wondered if Rick would realize that. If he would listen.

But then Maggie was back, with another woman, and it wasn't quiet anymore. I heard them in the front room. She was crying. Rick was crying. And then they came to Carl, to me. I'd never seen someone be in so much pain without their own injury. She laid down next to her son, whispering, holding. Rick followed, and suddenly, they were there. The family. Together. Broken, but... together.

I slowly made my way out of the room.

* * *

Almost an hour had passed before Hershel took me away from my book, calling me back into Carl's room.

He needed more blood. The faint red circle on his bandage was darker now, the skin around the gauze paler. I went to where Rick was already sitting in the chair and prepped his arm.

After probably too much blood, considering how close the two transfusions were to each other, I pulled the needle out and his wife, Lori, led him away. I continued to clean up as Hershel talked to them in the kitchen.

The fresh blood improved the pallor of Carl's skin, and his temperature felt close to normal. Making sure everything was put away properly- and glancing once more at the resting boy- I followed Hershel. Rick was at the table, Lori behind him. Rick was definitely looking worse for wear. I noticed the empty glass in front of him, the blank stare. Guess he really had given too much blood...

And it wasn't long before we needed more. Otis and Shane were late. It was dark already. They should have been back by now. I tried to ignore my own worry, my mind conjuring up dozens of ways Otis could have died... I tried to focus on Carl. But without Otis returning with the supplies, Carl would be lost, too.

I wasn't the only one worried, though. Lori and Rick were arguing, the stress of the day taking its toll on them. Hershel was insisting that we needed to operate soon. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

For my part, I agreed with Lori. And not just because Rick was clearly weaker than a toothpick at the moment. She was right. Their son was injured. They needed to be there, just in case...

Well. Just in case.

Thankfully, she managed to convince Rick of the same thing. And then... we continued to wait.

* * *

**A/N So I know it's slow. And Daryl wasn't even there. But I needed an introduction, and to kinda get into writing multi-chapter again. It's definitely been awhile. Being rusty and without a beta has its drawbacks. BUT IT WILL BE WORTH THE WAIT BECAUSE I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS THAT I AM SO EXCITED TO WRITE.**

**Anyways. Yeah. I'll update again soon. Get this ball rollin', as it were. Feedback would be welcome, but I know there isn't really much to respond to... yet... but still...**

**Oh, also. I'm probably gonna keep writing one-shots. Because I can't resist those arms. Unf. So you'll also have that to look forward to. ;)**


	2. But you don't succeed

**A/N: Woooo. I'm excited for the follows and reviews. Very encouraging. Thanks to everyone who's supporting this story :) **

**But now, on with the show. Daryl still isn't here, sadly. I'm trying to keep it episode by episode, while adding my own scenes to develop my OC; but I've actually already written a lot of scenes with the two of them. Now I just have to create a believable build-up. Which is harder than I thought it would be... especially because of Kathleen's lack of dialogue. It's been hard keeping her silent. I thrive off of dialogue. So this is a challenge for me. We'll see how it goes.**

**Oh, and because I forgot to mention it already: I do not own 'The Walking Dead.' **

* * *

In the past few hours, only Hershel had been brave enough to check on Carl. I say brave not because we didn't want to face the reality of Carl's dangerous health situation, but because his parents were in there with him. Rick, last I had seen, still looked shell-shocked by the day's events. Pale, weak, a little out of it. It seemed only his wife was preventing him from doing something reckless, insisting that he eat and keep his strength up. She looked more scared than he did, though. Maybe because she wasn't out of it at all. She knew what was happening, what could happen to her son. It was written on her face, and it was heartbreaking to read.

Hence why Hershel was the brave one. And I was not, opting instead to avoid said room and family.

Even so, we'd all have to be brave pretty soon. Otis and Shane still hadn't returned- which, in itself, was worrisome- but it also meant that we might have to operate on Carl without the benefit of the necessary medical equipment. Hershel, brave as he was, was definitely getting nervous. We had been postponing as long as possible; but the window was slowly closing.

Sadly, the book I was trying to read wasn't holding my attention. Nothing was. My mind went from focusing on Otis to Carl to Rick to Shane to Hershel to... etc. It was a cycle, moving from one to the other in quick succession. Hershel himself was across from me, reading up on the procedures he would be performing soon, double- and triple-checking.

He glanced up when he heard my sigh. "Worried about the boy?"

"And Otis," was my quiet response.

"Don't be. It'll all work out like it's supposed to. Worrying won't help anybody."

I nodded, knowing he was right but unable to help myself. With everything that had happened today... I could barely wrap my head around it. Strangers in the house, injuries, Otis gone. I felt like it had been bad news all day, and part of me just wanted to sleep and forget it had all happened. But I couldn't do that anymore, like I did in school after getting a bad grade. This was life now, however shitty it was. And once Otis and Shane came back, Hershel would need my help.

I sighed again, looking back to my book once more as Hershel left to check on Carl. Patricia was in there with his parents. Their worrying was a different kind than mine, I guess. More personal, spreading deeper. It was horrible, all the same.

But like Hershel said: worrying wouldn't help. They would come back. And we'd operate. And Carl would be fine. And that would be good news. And then things could go back to being semi-normal... Right?

Right.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door. I immediately looked over- were the men finally back? But no... It was Maggie, with more strangers in tow, this time an Asian man who could have been anywhere from 18 to 30 (I really couldn't tell) and a larger black man who definitely looked like he was about to pass out. I tried to catch Maggie's eye, but she led them straight to Carl's bedside. Giving up on my book, I tossed it aside and followed them.

The new men were friends of Rick and Lori. The rest of us looked on as they exchanged a few words, Hershel busy examining Carl. He looked worse than he had earlier, and I knew Hershel would have to act soon. Rick and Lori looked too calm, though, so I assumed Hershel hadn't yet mentioned the operation.

Looking back over, I saw Maggie leading the men out of the room.

"Kathleen?" she called back. "Could you come help me?"

Not wanting to be present for Hershel talking to Carl's parents, I easily obliged, following the three into the other room. Once we were all sitting at the table, Maggie reached for the black guy's arm, which I now saw was... well, "bandaged," for lack of a better term. It looked like someone strapped insulation onto his arm using heavy-duty zip-ties. Super sanitary.

Maggie removed the covering and I saw a huge gash, infection still gnawing away at the edges. The man hissed in pain.

"I cut it out on the highway. Some sharp end of a car door. Been taking antibiotics, but it still hurts somethin' awful," he said.

Maggie glanced over at me. "Do we have any hydrogen peroxide left?" I shrugged, nonplussed. "No! We do. It's upstairs with the sewing stuff. Hold on a sec."

She gently released the man's injured arm and left the room, crossing the room in one way to go upstairs as first Lori, then Rick, crossed in another to get to the porch. Leaving me alone with the two men.

Thanks, Maggie. Thanks a lot.

I really didn't mean to be rude by automatically disliking them. I guess they looked harmless enough; but it was never the danger factor that freaked me out. When it came to people I didn't already know before... ya know... before all _this_ started, I just... I couldn't handle it. Seeing the way people behaved, right after everything began- it was terrifying. They went nuts. Some people were just scared, others were turning violent- who were you supposed to trust in that kind of world? _This_ kind of world- the new one?

The only answer I'd found to that was this: trust people from the old world. So I did. I went to the Greenes. I'd known them before, known Maggie and Hershel specifically. I felt safe with them. Ever since isolating myself in that comfort, though, I'd had trouble with new people. Not that there were a ton of them stopping at the farm, but still. It happened. Rick, Lori, Shane, and Carl were proof of that. And though I'd come to appreciate Rick's level of dedication to his family, I was still wary of him and his wife. I didn't know who they were, where they'd come from, what they'd done. But Carl's presence helped. They couldn't be too bad if they were just looking out for their kid, right? The rational part of my brain says so, at least. The irrational part is still a little afraid. Especially of Shane, but I guess I'd hardly even seen him, so that was unfair of me.

Maggie was usually super nice about my (admittedly) somewhat irrational fear, always making sure that I had familiar company. But with the day we'd all just had, I'm not surprised she forgot. I told myself she wouldn't be gone long, and tried to ignore the awkward silence that now filled the room. I was pretty sure both men were looking at me; but as I was very aggressively avoiding eye contact, I couldn't be sure.

"Hey," the Asian guy started. "I'm Glenn." I nodded, but kept my gaze on the floor. "This is T-Dog." Another nod. This was super awkward. It was even worse because I wanted to be a normal person and just make eye contact and introduce myself- like I used to, I guess. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I settled with mentally berating myself for being such a freak. Come on, Self. This is the apocalypse. Get over it.

Just... maybe not right now.

Suddenly, Maggie was back, holding a brown bottle and some fresh gauze. She touched my shoulder and I looked up at her.

"Sorry. I forgot." I sent her a small smile. She was already forgiven, and she knew it. Returning the smile, she handed the supplies to me. "You're the experienced one. I'll hold him down."

I smirked and shrugged. It was true. Scooting closer to T-Dog- by the way, nice name- and reached for his arm.

"This is gonna hurt, isn't it?" he asked grimly. I nodded, watching as he clenched his fist and took a breath. "Alright. Do it."

I uncapped the bottle and poured it on before he lost his nerve. The hiss that came from his mouth almost matched the one that came from his wound, the peroxide bubbling up and cleaning out the bacteria. I use the corner of some gauze to dab at it, dumping some more onto the deeper parts.

Suddenly there was commotion in Carl's room, Rick and Laurie rushing in. From the sounds of it, he was awake. The four of us stayed put, listening. We could hear their muffled voices... followed by the cries of Lori and Rick. I distinctly heard Hershel say "siezure." Maggie and I shared a pained glance, as T-Dog and Glenn looked sadly at the door.

I was the first to return to the situation at hand, dabbing at the cut once again. T-Dog held up well, relaxing his fist after the initial reaction as I cleared most of the now-brown bubbles away. The cut was odd- the edges of it looked like a scrape, like someone had used a jagged knife to skin the inside of his arm. Other parts, toward the center, were deeper, looking more pierced. It could be stitched, but it was gonna leave one hell of a scar. I definitely didn't envy his situation. At least it wasn't completely infected. He had mentioned antibiotics, so he had that going for him. Looking up at Maggie, I motioned for her to grab his hand and hold it as I started to sew. I knew he must have been in horrible pain, but he bore it pretty well. Patricia came in and started asking about the pills he'd been taking, distracting him and his friend as I worked. Like me, she noticed how lucky he was to have those antibiotics. Whoever those Dixon guys were, they had really helped him out.

When I was finished, I quickly used the fresh gauze and some tape to cover it back up, careful not to jostle his arm, before releasing it and sitting back. Glenn had left the room not a minute before, and now that I was done, Maggie followed him, squeezing my shoulder as she passed.

Patricia and I watched T-Dog flex his fingers a few times.

"Seems like you're gonna be okay," she said eventually.

"Yeah? Good. Thanks. I appreciate it...?" T-Dog trailed off, glancing in my direction, waiting for me to say my name. Thankfully, Patricia was here to save me.

"Kathleen. She doesn't talk much."

"Yeah, I noticed," he said with a chuckle. "Well... Thanks, Kathleen."

I nodded. I even tried to smile. But I was still looking at the floor, so I guess that was kinda useless.

"When are they gonna be back..." Patricia muttered, rubbing at her wrist, her gaze flicking from the clock to the door.

"Who?"

"One of your friends- Shane? He went with my husband Otis to get supplies for Carl. They left hours ago. They should've been back by now."

I looked up at Patricia. The fear that laced her voice was clear, making me reach for her hand across the table. We had never been particularly close, but I couldn't imagine what she was going through right now, the dread she was feeling.

"Well I dunno about this Otis guy," T-Dog admitted, "but Shane's a tough bastard. And he'll do anything for that boy. He'll make sure they get back okay."

Patricia could only nod as I gripped her fingers in mine.

* * *

It was finally time. We couldn't wait any longer. Carl needed that operation, surplus equipment or no. If we didn't act now, he would die anyways. Hershel was insistent- nervous, considering everything- but still insistent. Of course, Rick and Lori tried to hide their own panic. They wanted the best chance for Carl, which meant an incubator and more medicine... but without the time to wait... What else was there to do? Maggie and I waited in the other room- Glenn was still outside, and who knows where T-Dog got to- for the parents to make their decision, nervously watching Hershel as he finally turned to us and nodded.

After that it was all action. We moved Hershel's work table into the room, prepped the extra blood we had, brought over a lamp, opened fresh gauze... Patricia was nearby, ready to hold the boy down. I was across the table, gloves on, waiting for any kind of instruction from Hershel. We looked at each other for just a moment, taking a breath, focusing. I saw him swallow. I trusted Hershel's abilities, but he wasn't a miracle-worker and we all knew it. We also knew it was now or never, and I watched as his gaze moved to the unconscious boy that was on the table between us.

He was just about to cut into Carl's abdomen when we heard a car engine. Who else could it be but Otis and Shane? Relief washed over me, tension I didn't even know I had releasing from my neck and shoulders. Hershel, Rick, and Lori rushed out to the car, ready to greet the men and grab the supplies they had risked their lives to get. I stayed by Carl's side, Patricia next to me, checking his pulse, wiping away some dried blood.

Suddenly Hershel was back, alone, but with the supplies we so desperately needed clutched in his hands. I was a little surprised. Wouldn't Otis come back? Wouldn't he help Hershel? Wouldn't he want to see Patricia?

Where was he?

Hershel wouldn't meet my eye, instead jumping straight into orders of what to do. He avoided looking at Patricia's face like it was the plague- which I guess nowadays is an especially poor choice of words. When Patricia was turned away to wash her hands once more, I took my chance.

"Otis?" I whispered softly, noticing how Hershel's back tensed. He shot me one glance, fighting the frown on his face. And he shook his head.

So Otis and Shane hadn't finally come back.

There was no Otis.

My mind almost went blank at the realization. But Hershel was right there to keep me on track, telling me what to do, when to move. It helped for all of three seconds, even if all the tension I thought I had lost suddenly came back in full-force. But then I remembered Patricia.

_Patricia._

She didn't know. She couldn't have. She wouldn't still be functioning if she did. I glanced at Hershel once more as she returned to the table. He was already looking at me, waiting for this reaction; and he shook his head once more.

* * *

The surgery was an eventual success, thanks to... thanks to Otis's sacrifice. Because of him, Carl was able to live. Rick and Lori were overjoyed, as was to be expected. Their son was alive. Why wouldn't they be happy? But for us, the coin was flipped. Otis was dead. Patricia's husband. Happy wasn't anywhere close to what she would be feeling when we told her.

She still didn't know. She was probably the only one who didn't, come to think of it. We'd hidden it from her through the whole surgery, knowing we had a job to do. I had never been more thankful that she was such a focused woman, so intent on the task at hand.

But the surgery was over. Carl was okay. And we had to tell her.

It was eventually decided that Hershel would do it, and that Rick would go with him. Lori would go to Carl. I would...

What would I do? It was situations like this that made me feel so useless. How could I help? Nobody needed me, not right now. I strolled off the porch aimlessly, wandering toward the closest tree, away from all that was happening in the house.

Damnit. I used to be so good at this. I used to always know what I should be doing, and when, and why. I was so driven through college and nursing school. But then I had that stupid accident... and the problems from that. And then, of course, there was the apocalypse. That involved a lot of problems of its own.

Ever since... ever since, I'd felt so... well, useless is still the best word for it. I was so damn afraid of everything, of everyone. And I knew it. It was all in my head, but I couldn't get it out. If I had been a robot before- all work, no play: a favorite joke of Maggie's- then I guess I had a short circuit now. And it sucked.

My thoughts were interrupted by Patricia's sudden sobs. I could hear her, even from here. She was heartbroken. Of course she was. The family hadn't lost someone so close since Hershel's second wife and her son. That had been right after I'd started living at the farm. I hadn't known them, hadn't been close to them at all. I didn't feel their deaths like I was feeling Otis's now. And Patricia... poor Patricia. She didn't deserve this. None of them did.

Still, though. Carl was alive, and that was something to be thankful for. And Shane, too, though I still hadn't talked to him at all. I'm sure Rick and Lori were glad that he was back, at least.

I sighed, leaning against the rough bark next to me. Today had been... long. Long and hard and horrible and great and exhausting. I hadn't had to remember that much medical know-how in ages. I was surprised I had even remembered as much as I had, to be honest. It was nice, though, I guess- slipping back into something that was once so familiar. But now I wanted to sleep. And I also didn't want to see anyone. I wondered briefly if I could make it back without running into any people; but that thought was cut short when I saw T-Dog on the porch. There was no way that I could avoid him. Then again... he probably wouldn't say anything to me, right? I weighed my options: would I rather pass a stranger (which I would normally hate) who would most likely be silent? Or would I rather risk running into someone I know (always preferable to strangers) who would probably want to talk? It was worth the small risk.

Or at least I thought it was until T-Dog spoke to me.

"Hey... Kathleen, right?" I nodded, halting on the same step he was sitting on, but not quite looking him in the face. "I know- I know Maggie said ya don't talk much, and that's fine. I'm not looking for a heart-to-heart or anything. I just wanted to know... Carl. Is he really gonna be okay?" I focused my eyes on his ear instead of his face and nodded again. He sighed in relief. "Thank God." Thinking he was done, I moved to the next step. But he said one more thing. "I, uh... I'm sorry. About your friend. Otis. I didn't know him, but... I know what it's like to lose someone. And it sucks."

I almost laughed at that. Understatement of the week, if not the whole year. Instead, I kept walking, my hand reaching for the handle of the screen door. Part of me- the part that had my mother's voice, and was always telling me to be polite and to remember my manners- felt the need to thank him for his sympathies. He seemed like a nice enough guy, right? He deserved to be treated as kindly as he treated others, at least. But then there was the mute side of me that balked at opening my mouth when I hadn't really talked to any non-Greenes in... I don't even know how long. Fear battled it out with will in my head: chains of fear... willing myself to be free; fear rising to the front... desire to be my old self again resurfacing. Still standing with my hand on the door, will steadily began to win. I was going to start facing my fears. And now was a good time to start. Because I could cheat.

That still counted, right?

I knew the screen door would screech when I opened it, just like it always did. So, keeping my voice soft, I waited until I was pulling the door toward me before expressing myself, a soft "thanks" slipping from my lips. I really have no idea if he heard me. When I glanced behind me, though, through the mesh of the screen, he was still facing out toward the yard. But he was nodding to himself, seemingly in thought, and I kinda hoped he had.

Baby steps, I reminded myself. Baby steps.

* * *

**A/N: So yeah. That's over. Drama, drama, drama. And still no Daryl. I apologize. Soon. Next chapter. They'll meet and it will be great. I've got so many plans. **

**So Kathleen is trying to face her fears! That's exciting, right? I know it's kinda weird. She never talks and she hates strangers and what is going onnnnnnn. Those fears will be explained soon enough, though. Right now, they're just there and bothering her, like... a lot... but they are legitimate and she is legitimately trying to get better. It's hard, though. It's a scary world they're living in. And stuff. And things. **

**But hey. She'll talk soon enough... to someone... ;)**


	3. When you get what you want

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and all the words of encouragement! And the follows and favs, too! I really appreciate it. You guys are awesome. And...**

**YES DARYL FINALLY AGH YOU DON'T KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING. I was so mad that he wasn't in this week's episode. Grrrr... It was a good one, though. Super tense. Anyways. Here's Daryl, finally. ;)**

* * *

The next morning brought more surprises as the rest of Rick Grime's group showed up at the farm. Beth, Glenn, Shane and the rest were working outside, doing chores, killing time. Hershel, Lori, and Rick were checking on Carl. I was in the kitchen, making soup in case Carl woke up soon and was hungry. But we all heard it, scattered about as we were.

It was a motorcycle.

I don't know how the sound could be mistaken for anything else, but I'll admit I was a little biased. I loved motorcycles. Always have. And now there was one here. I was just drying my hands, ready to investigate, when T-Dog came through the kitchen. He looked at me briefly, but continued to the back room, announcing that the group had arrived- as if their entrance soundtrack wasn't enough.

I trailed behind Rick and Lori and everyone else, leaning against the porch railing while the group reunited. The motorcycle was in front, easy to spot. Its rider dismounted, glancing around. Something about him was... familiar. The bike, too. But what was it?

I watched him bend over to check something on his vehicle, before taking the opportunity to glance at the rest of the party. There was an RV and another car, maybe six more strangers to add to our growing collection. The farm was becoming a hotel, apparently. I grimaced just thinking about it. Maybe Hershel would kick them all out after Carl was better...? No. He was too nice for that. Damnit.

Pretty much everyone was on the lawn now, and Rick was talking to an older man in a bucket hat who was asking about Carl. Once the good news broke, that he would be okay and wasn't, in fact, dead, the group as a whole seemed to relax a little. Not entirely, but a little. It was kinda weird, actually. I mean, the Greenes were a family. They were already close. But these people were clearly unrelated. I guess I never considered how an apocalypse could make a group unite.

People were hugging now and I glanced around, back at the motorcycle guy. He, too, seemed to be observing his surroundings carefully, taking in each member of the Greene family as the two groups stood before each other. His eyes, for the briefest of seconds, passed to me; but with the way the sun was rising, I could barely see his face or eyes. He had already turned away, though, so I guess it didn't matter.

Rick began making all the introductions, but I wasn't quite close enough to hear what he was saying. I sighed to myself. New strangers. Great. Then again, the ones we'd housed to far hadn't been so bad. Maybe these people would be good, too. And hey- they had a motorcycle. Add that to the list of "they can't be _that_ bad" things (which until now had only been Carl).

* * *

Not long after they arrived, we held a service for Otis. We didn't have his body, of course, so we just piled rocks, each saying a prayer while Hershel read from the Bible.

This was something I kind of took for granted. Of course we would have a service like this to commemorate our fallen loved ones. We would pray and add his photo to the fridge, right next to the others. But the new group looked a little antsy. Not because somebody had died- no, I supposed they must have been accustomed to death after all their traveling. But that we still had some kind of faith...? I dunno. They just looked a little out of place. Perhaps I was being too harsh, though.

Regardless, they were still respectful, which I was grateful for. They removed their hats and kept their silence as we proceeded. And the setting, us all standing under the trees, shaded from the sun, finally allowed me to get a good look at everyone.

There were, of course, Lori and Rick, who I knew; as well as T-Dog and Glenn. Good people, from what I'd seen. I was hesitant to add Shane to the "from what I'd seen" bit, because I still hadn't really seen much of him. Then there was an older man- not as old as Hershel, probably, but older than anyone else in that group. He had been the one in the bucket hat asking about Carl. He, out of all of them, looked the most at ease with our display of faith. Actually, he looked like he'd be pretty at ease with most things, as long as they weren't harmful. He had a grandfatherly look to him- not the strict grandfather who made you eat all your vegetables; but the kind one who would sneak money to you for gumballs when your mom wasn't looking.

There was also a blonde woman that the grandpa guy kept glancing at, even though she never looked at him. She seemed pretty normal. Definitely tense, judging by the set of her jaw and shoulders. Was she his daughter? They didn't really look related, but over generations it was hard to tell.

Then there was another woman, this one with really short gray hair. She looked really down for not even knowing the person we were "burying." But then I remembered something. Was she was the mother of the missing girl (which I only remembered because I might have overheard the others talking about at some point... Not talking really lets you listen, ya know? Even through doors, sometimes...).

Finally, there was motorcycle guy, standing by Glenn, hands crossed over his chest and hooked onto the fabric of his vest. Or shirt? Did that thing ever have sleeves? I couldn't tell. He still looked familiar, that was for sure; but I couldn't put my finger on why. I didn't know any bikers, did I? I mean, even if I knew a lot, I'm pretty sure this guy would stand out. There was no point in lying to myself: he was hot. Tousled auburn hair, tan skin, defined (but not bulging... too ropy to be bulging) arm muscles. I frowned, looking at him. Maybe he'd been at the hospital at some point?

I was distracted when he looked up and made eye contact, wary cerulean irises observing my own observation of him. And then I remembered: I _did_ know him. At least, we'd met once. And not at the hospital. What was his name? Dan? David? Something with a D... What was it? Thinking back, I recalled the previous night. The prescription antibiotics T-Dog had. _Dixon_. He was thankful for the Dixon brothers. _Merle and Daryl_.

I looked around, then, to see if Merle was with him; but I couldn't find him anywhere. Had he died? Now my frown was for a different reason. Merle had been rude and a perv, but nobody deserved to lose their brother. Poor Daryl.

Throughout this personal revelation, Daryl himself had been watching me, the expression on his face clearly stating he thought I was kinda crazy. Probably because I was staring at him again. At least it was better than the scowl I last saw him with. We made eye contact again, but it was quickly interrupted by Hershel addressing Shane, asking him to speak about Otis.

Everyone was looking from Patricia to Shane, now, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. Definitely way more nervous that he should have been. He seemed like a confident guy, not afraid of a little public speech. Why was he freaking out? He eventually started to talk, though, repeating the events of the other night. It was... terrifying, to say the least. But also comforting to hear of Otis's bravery. I know Patricia appreciated it.

The members of his own group seemed less than comforted, however. The older man looked pretty suspicious. And Daryl, standing behind Shane, looked on like a predator stalking his prey: he hardly moved his body, but his eyes never left Shane, who was now wrapping up. When he did finally stop, the spell was broken and we all wandered back to the house, leaving Otis to rest.

* * *

Soon enough, I found myself back in Carl's room, checking to make sure he was still doing alright. Maggie was bustling through the living room, carrying a roll of paper. She saw me, though, and stopped.

"Kat?" I looked up. "You doin' alright?"

"What do you mean?" I asked softly, swallowing when I realized how hoarse my voice was sounding.

"Well, I dunno. All these new people... I know ya don't like it much."

I shrugged. "They seem fine, I guess."

"Just let me know, alright? If ya need anythin'?"

"I will. Thanks."

She nodded and left. I wanted to tell her about Daryl and the spring break all those years ago, but it could wait. I knew she was going out to help however she could. I didn't want to distract her. When today was over, we would get a chance to talk.

I stayed with Carl for awhile, taking my time. He hadn't woken up again since talking to her parents earlier, but he seemed to be getting better every day. Finally finishing up with Carl, I went back to the kitchen- only to see Maggie again, pouring herself a glass of water.

"Glenn and I are headin' into town for medicine. You got any requests?"

"You grabbed the list we've been working on?" She nodded. "Then no."

Finishing her water, she turned to leave. "Alright. I gotta go saddle those horses. I'll see ya tonight."

"Maggie?"

"Yeah?"

"Be safe."

She winked and walked out of the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder, "Always am."

I couldn't help but grin. Brat. I was usually a huge fan of Maggie's confidence; but sometimes it was worrisome. I mean, I know how the Greenes felt about the infected and everything... but they were still dangerous. Otis's death was proof of that. At least she had Glenn. Glenn would watch her back. He seemed at least more cautious than she was, so that was already working in their favor.

Moving over to the kitchen sink, I began on the somewhat large pile of dishes we'd accumulated. A hot breeze rolled in through the open window, a set of metal chimes hanging from the porch just barely ringing. And then there was Daryl, striding purposefully past the house and to the woods.

And after Daryl's walk came Rick's voice, asking him if he was okay to go alone. Alone? Where was he going? Oh... he was searching. For Sophia. I guess he made a habit of saving damsels in distress.

"Better on my own," he was saying when I tuned back in. :Don' worry. Be back before dark."

Geez. Even his voice was familiar, and I'd only talked to him that once. A little rough; a lot Southern. He sounded determined and confident and strong. I tried not to eavesdrop as Rick talked to him about having a base, the farm, my home- someplace for them to come together.

"You got a point? Or are we just chattin'?" Daryl interrupted. Still rude, I see.

"My point..." Rick said. "It lets you off the hook. You don't owe us anything."

Daryl just looked at him, squinting against the light, then turned away from him and back to the woods. "My other plans fell through." Then he walked away. I don't know if he saw me at the window, hands in a sink full of water that was practically forgotten. If he did, he didn't react- he just kept moving.

He was angry the last time I met him. Rude. Irritating. But this anger was different. Deeper. He'd suffered and lost. But he wasn't cutting loose, leaving the others behind. Why not? Did he still have family in the group? Some connection? Or had Merle been his only family? I frowned again, finally returning to the dishes. Daryl Dixon might not be a stranger, exactly; but he was definitely a mystery.

* * *

Soon, the dishes were all done, Carl was still doing fine, and almost the whole house had been cleaned. Essentially, I'd successfully avoided the new people for most of the day; and I was feeling pretty content about that. Of course, then it call came crashing down. People started yelling over by one of the wells. Seems our water, at least at that well, was contaminated. Leaving the house, I joined with Maggie and Glenn- who still hadn't left yet...?- and gathered around the well with the others.

Oh geez. That... that is gross. Seriously, just _nasty_. The Walker in the well was groaning and rasping away, reaching his slimy little dead hands up toward us. His body was all bloated and slick and grey as he stumbled around the small area.

It was agreed that we had to get him out; but how to do so was up in the air. We failed to tempt him with a ham. The Walker just didn't seem interested. And then it was suggested that Glenn go down and rope the sucker.

I repeat: _gross_.

Glenn didn't seem to be a big fan of the situation, either, but he still agreed to do it. Seeing him willing to act, to risk his life, definitely made me feel better about him going into town with Maggie. He was quickly gaining on Rick in the "Hey, I might like this guy... eventually" department.

And then the pipe unhinged, the rope slipped, ad everyone started screaming. I lunged unto the pile, trying to pull him back up with everyone else. Glenn's screams echoed up the well, our group finally getting together and making progress. And then, finally, Shane hauled out on the rope and then Glenn was back.

Everyone now safe on land, we all gave a sigh of relief.

"Well, back to the drawing board," the older man said. (I had yet to be properly introduced.)

"Says you," was Glenn's reply, walking of to catch his breath- but not before handing a rope to the other man. A rope that was attached to the Walker in the water.

Well done, Glenn. Well done. You are now on par with Rick, officially.

We all kind've grinned at each other, Maggie patting Glenn on the back, before discussing strategy once more. Deciding on slow and steady, we all began to pull. Our strength wasn't enough, though, so Maggie retrieved one of the horses.

The sounds the thing made were almost as gross as it looked. Rasping and groaning still, its head eventually crested the edge of the stone. The rope was cutting into its bloated skin, causing darker-than-human blood, dead blood, to seep through. Its arms were still reaching for us, making an involuntary shiver tense my lower back. Gross. In every sense of the word.

We were still pulling, but nothing was happening anymore. The sucker was stuck. We pulled harder, the groans got louder- and then it split in half. The upper half fell toward us, the sounds of grunting quieter now, but still persistent, fingers stretching toward us. But looking down the body, there was nothing past the waist. It was just torn skin and trailing guts, a stream of blood and bile and water stretching from the torso back to the well, where the other half had disappeared. A small part of me was so glad I had been on the rope and not overlooking- I definitely did not need a memory of how to make dead guy stew.

At first we all just stood there, a little in shock. Then T-Dog began to beat the Walker's head in. It was gruesome, but I couldn't look away. The others only stared- except for Maggie, who choked back a sob and turned around- but I found myself stepping closer. I'd seen them die, but not this close. It really was the brain, wasn't it? I guess it made sense, but I was still curious...

T-Dog then made some comment about how we should have shot it. I looked up at him. He wasn't really angry, just irritated. Rolling his eyes, he turned back around, leaving the carcass behind him. The others talked about closing the well- clearly the best option here- and moved to cover it back up. When we finished, the older man looked up at me.

"Ya know, I don't think we've met yet. I'm Dale."

I nodded and shook his hand- then remembered Maggie had walked off. Shit. That means-

"That's Kathleen," came T-Dog's voice suddenly. "She doesn't talk much."

I looked at him in surprise, a small smile- not entirely forced- finding its way onto my face. He returned it.

Aw. I guess T-Dog was making it onto that "Hey, I might like you" list, too. Man. Everyone was making it on that list these days. I must be getting soft. I'd have to let Maggie know. She'd be relieved that I was starting to like people again. I mean, I wasn't about to start chatting up a storm, but it was a start.

"Oh," Dale started. "That's fine, that's fine. Well, this is Andrea and Lori, and I think you know Shane and T-Dog and Glenn."

I nodded at each of them. Strangers were still strangers... but maybe Rick's group of strangers wasn't so bad.

* * *

Maggie and Glenn were gone now; and Shane, Andrea, and the other woman- they called her Carol- had left, as well. I hadn't seen Hershel or Rick in ages. Back at the farm, Carl was fidgeting in his sleep. Grabbing my book from earlier, I made myself comfortable in the chair next to him. He deserved some company if he woke up.

And wake up he did, coming to just for a few minutes. His eyes glanced around, already somewhat familiar with his surroundings. Then he saw me.

"Hi," he said. I nodded, already moving to check his pulse and pressure. "You're Kathleen, aren't you?" My eyebrows rose in surprise. He smiled. "My dad told me about you. He said you help Hershel. He also said you don't talk."

I almost laughed at that. I guess I wasn't surprised Rick and them thought I was a mute. I only ever talked to Maggie and Hershel, and even then, we were always out of sight of anyone else. I smiled down at him and winked.

"I don't," was my whispered response. His own eyes widened in response. I think he was about to say something, but then Lori came in and started to flitter around him, talking, asking him how he was. She had a bowl with her, and I was glad to see she had found the soup I made earlier. I quickly exited, knowing that Carl needed his mother more than me; but I glanced back once to see him. He was looking at me, still a little confused, and we shared a little smile.

No, Carl wasn't a baby. He was probably ten or eleven. But it still counted as a baby step, right? He was hardly the potentially dangerous, adult version of a stranger that I had in my mind. Besides. Baby steps had worked out for me well, so far. First thanking T-Dog on the porch; then having him help me out today. Now talking to Carl. I was on a roll. Feeling refreshed, but also kind of tired, I collected my book- which I thankfully had grabbed before leaving Carl's room- and moved out to the front porch.

* * *

I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Maggie and Hershel were talking at the bottom of the steps.

Hershel looked relieved that she was safe. But Maggie... Maggie looked upset about something. She came up the steps and had almost passed me before I reached for her wrist, holding it gently until she turned to look at me.

"Later," was all she said before pulling away and going inside. Hershel followed her, but he stopped without me needing to grab him.

"You'll check up on her?" he asked me. I nodded. "Thank you." Changing his mind about going inside, he sat next to me instead. "How's Carl?"

"He woke up once. Strong pulse. Good pressure."

"Good, good."

"Any word on the little girl?"

"Not yet."

We were silent after that, looking out over the lawn. I saw Daryl leave the RV, looking a little flustered. My eyes automatically followed his movement as he glanced around and stalked back toward the woods. I was glad to see he was back, but I still didn't know what to do with him. Did he remember me, like I remembered him?

Hershel noticed my focus.

"Everythin' alright, Kathleen?"

Finally looking away from the direction Daryl had gone, I looked over at Hershel instead. I knew that he didn't really mean "everything." He wasn't asking about Carl or Maggie or anyone else. He was asking about me. He did that, every once in awhile- always masking his specific concerns with some kind of general question. And my answer was always the same: "Fine."

He nodded. "Alright." Then he stood and went back inside, leaving me alone once more.

I followed not long after. Dinner needed to be finished. Carl needed to be checked on. I still needed to figure out what to do about Daryl. And, more importantly, I had to tell Maggie. Whether something was bothering her or not, she was probably still gonna kill me for not telling her immediately. After killing me, though, I had no idea how she would react. I guess there was really only one way to find out.

* * *

Much later that night, after dinner and cleaning up and all the other necessities, I found Maggie up in her room, lying on her bed and hugging a pillow. She glanced up when I entered, but otherwise didn't move. I lied next to her.

"What's up?"

She looked at me and I could tell she wanted to be mad. She had that pouty look on her face. Sometimes Maggie just wanted to be upset for a bit, like a little kid. She usually got over it pretty fast, but either way, I always tried to get her out of it.

"Yer startin' conversations now?"

I winked. "Only for you." Finally, she smiled. "Seriously, though. Tell me."

She rolled her eyes, smile gone. "I had sex with Glenn."

Well that was blunt. At least she couldn't kill me for my own news, I guess. Hers was bigger. "What? When?"

"At the pharmacy. He tried to talk to me after."

"Isn't that normal?"

"Nothing's normal anymore."

I nodded. "So now what?" She shrugged. "Maggie..."

"Don't you dare call me a floozy."

"I wasn't going to."

"What then?"

"Maggie, if you're feeling like this... he probably is, too."

She scoffed. "He's a guy. Why would he be upset?"

"Nothing is normal now, remember?"

She pouted again, a sigh escaping her lips. "I guess." We were silent for a few minutes after that, before Maggie decided on a subject change. "How're you?"

I took a minute to think. "Surprisingly good. I talked to a few of them." I knew she would know what I was talking about, and I wasn't disappointed.

I watched her eyes widen before she laughed. "Did not."

"I did! I mean, I kinda cheated, but still..."

"Whadya mean 'cheated'?"

"Well. T-Dog was being really nice last night, apologizing about Otis, so I thanked him... but I didn't think he heard me."

"That doesn't count, Kat. If you're gonna start talking again, they have to hear you at least."

I rolled my eyes. "You say that like there are rules to this. Anyways. He helped me introduce myself to Dale today, so I think he did hear me, after all."

Maggie nodded, impressed. "Good job."

"Mhm. And I talked to Carl, too. I kinda just wanted to see his face since his dad told him I was a mute. It was worth it."

She laughed at that. The sound was sudden and loud, standing out in our whispered conversation. "They think you don't talk at all? I guess it's not all that surprisin'."

"No... it's not."

"Well, look at you, bein' all brave, facin' yer fears. Anythin' else I should know about?"

"Well..."

"I told you about Glenn. Spit it out."

"Did you meet Daryl?"

Her eyes widened again. "_You_ met Daryl? Good Lord, I thought you'd avoid him the most. That man isn't exactly oozin' charm."

I smiled at that. "No, I didn't. Well, I did. But not today."

This made her sit up, starting down at me in surprise. "You knew him from before?"

I nodded, also sitting up so I could face her properly. "Yeah, we met."

"When? How?"

"Years ago. You and I had just met, I think, but we weren't really friends yet. It was my last year, so that would be... what? Your first year?" She nodded. "My roommates and I were on vacation, driving to Florida, and we ran into some trouble. Daryl and his brother helped us out."

Maggie raised her eyebrows, giving me a heavy look. "He helped you out?"

"Not like that, floozy." That caused her to hit me with a pillow.

"Ya can't blame me for assumin'. He's pretty hot."

"Didn't you just say he wasn't charming?"

"Don't have to be charmin' to be hot," she teased. "So why didn't ya? Before, I mean."

"Oh. He was really mean, actually."

"He seems kinda mean now."

"Yeah..." I laughed suddenly, but even that was quiet. It seemed after not speaking for such a long time, I couldn't do anything but whisper now. Maggie and Hershel didn't seem to mind, though, so it didn't really bother me, either.

"What's so funny?" Maggie asked.

"We haven't had such a girly talk since we were in school."

She laughed, too. "Yeah, I reckon so. That was a good _one _semester away from home."

I heard the sadness in her tone. "Hey, you're family needed you closer to home. Nothing to regret there."

"I know... still. It was good. Worth it."

"Because you met me?" I teased. "Don't lie. Having me sit next to you in psych changed your life."

"No. What changed my life was that party we went to on Halloween. Remember Jonathan dressed up in that toga?"

It was my turn to hit her with the pillow. "Shut up."

She laughed again. "Nah, you're right. It was good. And I did meet you. That class sucked, though."

"Damn right."

When she looked at me again, Maggie was more serious. "I'm glad you're here, Kathleen," she said softly.

"Me too, Maggie. Me too."

* * *

**A/N: Woooooo Daryl! Mystery and intrigue! I tried to make this chapter a little lighter, even with the funeral. Especially with Carl, and the end scene with Maggie. If you couldn't tell, haha. Big relief to finally have some dialogue. **

**And hey- everyone seems to be getting along, so that's good. But how does Kathleen know Daryl? And how come she CAN talk but she WON'T? Curious... **

**I wrote a one-shot about Kathleen's memories from meeting Daryl. It hasn't been revealed yet, in this story, if he remembers her or not; but when that comes up, I'll probably write the same meeting from his p.o.v., and post it as a second chapter with the one from Kathleen's p.o.v. So yeah. That'll be going up right after this- separate from my other one-shots. I'll make sure it's clearly marked, so go check it outtttt.**


	4. But not what you need

**A/N: New chapter, wooo! Thank you guys for the reviews and favs and follows :) I really appreciate it. Definitely makes me want to keep writing knowing that other people actually _like_ the stuff that I write haha. **

**Also! I posted that one shot that is basically the memory of how Kathleen and Daryl met. It's called "Cerulean" and you can find it on my profile. **

**Also also! I don't known "The Walking Dead."**

**Starting this chapter off with a chunk of original content/new scenes and something in the way of answers. So enjoy.**

* * *

_It was so quiet. I thought I would be used to the quiet by now- I was a quiet person. But that was by choice, and this... this was different. This was oppressive. It wasn't that there wasn't any noise to begin with- that wouldn't have been too bad. No, it was that the noise that was supposed to be there had been taken away by force. And I hated it. _

_I couldn't hear my own breathing, my own heartbeat... the only way I knew I was actually there was because I held my hands up in front of my face. My hands which were covered in blood. _

_Blood? My blood?_

_I looked past my red fingers, down at my body. It was clean, my light green scrubs free of the offensive color. Not my blood. Definitely not my blood. _

_My hands started to shake as I lowered them back to my sides. All around me people were running, their mouths moving as if they were shouting; but I still couldn't hear anything. It was silent, and I just... stood there. What was I supposed to do? Why was I here? _

_A gurney suddenly rolled by me, surrounded by an EMT, two nurses, and a doctor. Their facial expressions were panicked, mouths contorting as they supposedly fired off information to each other. Blood was everywhere. I looked down at the body that so concerned them. _

Clarke_. _

_That's why they were so worried. They knew him. They knew him because I knew him. Clarke was my brother. _

_The silence was broken then as a screeching wail came over the intercom of the hospital. "Kathleen Munroe, please report to the ER. Kathleen Munroe, please report to the ER."_

_I was moving before the announcement had finished. They were rolling Clarke into one of the trauma rooms, working quickly. I stepped up, wanting to help- _needing _to help. It was my _brother_. But I couldn't do anything. None of us could. He was bleeding so much. His vitals were dropping. The other staff- my friends, colleagues- tried. They tried so hard. But soon enough they, too, had blood on their hands. They matched mine now._

_All of that training... years of classes, and tests, and shadowing... and what was the point? It didn't help me when I needed to help Clarke. It was useless. I was useless. _

_I looked down at my hands, anything to avoid the looks they were giving me. I couldn't comprehend pity yet, or sympathy. I could barely comprehend the pain that engulfed me. Pain. Loss. Sadness. Even anger. They overwhelmed me. _

_But no... it couldn't be true... Not Clarke... _

_Trying to step forward, I couldn't. Nobody else was around. Where had they gone? It was just me and Clarke in the room now, his body covered by a sheet. A red sheet. It wasn't supposed to be red. Why couldn't I move?_

_There were arms around my waist. I recognized the scar. The jagged white line covered almost the entire back of the hand. I had gotten that scar when I punched Greg Furnst in the 8th grade. It was my scar. My hand. My arms holding me back. I couldn't get to Clarke. I couldn't save him, and it was my own fault. _

_But that didn't stop me from trying. I kept struggling, pushing against myself. Why was this happening? I had to get to him, I had to do_something_- and then I slipped. The arms disappeared, and I fell. My hands came up to catch me, red fingers splayed across the ground for balance. I had slipped on a drop of blood, the color matching the stain on my hands. His blood. But... _

_I guess it had really been my blood, all along._

* * *

I didn't wake up screaming or crying. I woke up with a gasp, the rapidly cooling sweat on my body making it feel as though someone had doused me in water. A dream. It was just a dream. A nightmarish memory of a dream, true; but it was over. I was safe in bed, on Hershel's farm. Nobody was dying. We were safe.

Telling myself these things didn't help. I didn't even have the bright light of day to reassure me. It was still dark, probably just before dawn. I doubted anyone else would be awake. There was no way I would be getting more sleep tonight, though, so I got dressed and went downstairs. There were always chores to do on a farm, right?

As soon as I entered the kitchen, I realized that I had been right about the chores... but wrong about other people being awake. Hershel was leaning against the counter, looking out the window as the sky slowly began to gain color. From the stethoscope on the counter, I knew he had just checked on Carl.

"Good morning," he said softly, before I even made a sound. I poured myself a glass of water and leaned next to him. "Nightmare?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You're usually the last person awake. Only time you've been first is when ya had a nightmare." I shrugged, concealing a weak grin at his first comment. It was true. I liked to sleep. I couldn't conceal it for long, however, especially when Hershel held an arm out in my direction. "Care to take a walk with an old man like me?"

"Always."

Setting down my glass, I took Hershel's hand and let him lead me outside. At first we just wandered, looking out over the miniature campsite that Rick's group had set up around a group of trees, turning away from the site and making our way around the house.

"I've noticed you've been more willing to practice medicine lately."

"You mean with Carl?"

"Carl, T-Dog... You probably don't notice, but you check everybody for injuries as soon as they enter a room." Did I? Old habits die hard, I guess... "You were good at your job, Kathleen. You _are_ good. You don't need to hide from it."

"It _was_ my job. And I'm not hiding."

"You are. Medicine is in your blood. You can't let one bad experience ruin that for you."

I sighed. "Hershel..." I hesitated, then, wanting to say so much. But I knew he already knew. We'd discussed this before. That 'one bad experience' hadn't ruined my job as a nurse. It had ruined _me_. I couldn't just move past that. I didn't know how. And after that dream, I didn't even want to think about it. So, instead, I stalled. "You say it like I'm a medical prodigy. I was fresh out of school. I'd had that job for, what, a month? Before... before it... happened?" I'd never get over it if I couldn't even say it.

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed. "You're a natural. And the world being the way it is now, that's not a skill you can afford to lose." He was right. Hershel was always right. Damnit. "I know you want to help people, Kathleen. You've already been a big help to me here, especially in the past few days, and in the clinic, too, before all this started. But you'll have to help yourself first."

I already knew all these things that he was saying. Hell, I'd told them to myself more often than he had told them to me. But he meant well, so I couldn't get too irritated with him. I just had to remind myself that I would get better. I would. I just... didn't know how yet. That was when a thought struck me: "Are we still talking about me not wanting to play nurse? Or is this about me still not talking anybody?"

He chuckled. "Well, both. But if you were gonna pick one to work on first, I'm gonna be selfish and ask you to start with the nursing."

Grinning, I nudged his arm. "Crazy old man."

His own grin answering my own, we continued to walk, a comfortable silence between us. The sun was up now, and we had gone around the entire house. People were moving at the campsite. My eyes automatically sought out familiar faces, which, for now, pretty much consisted of one person: Daryl.

I didn't see him, but I wasn't very surprised. He could still be asleep, or out hunting. I was still glancing over my shoulder though, hoping to see a flash of cerulean, as Hershel and I finally went back inside.

* * *

It was much later in the morning before I saw anyone else; and that was just Patricia going out to do chores with Beth. I thought that I would actually be seeing people more often- especially since the new group had settled in- but nope. Not a soul. Even Carl didn't wake up. So basically I was super bored.

In this state of boredom, I decided stalking Rick's friends would be a swell idea. Going outside to socialize wasn't an option, so this was kinda like the next best thing. It wasn't super interesting, but it was something, at least. From a window on the second floor, I watched Carol and Lori messing with the laundry. I saw Andrea, Shane, Rick, T-Dog, Jimmy, Dale, and Daryl gather at the truck. This definitely interested me more than the laundry.

They were crowded around a map, making gestures, talking. Daryl was putting on a shirt, which I thought was pretty silly. It was going to hot today, you could already tell with the humidity. Did he really need to have a shirt over his wifebeater? More importantly, did he need sleeves?

No. No, he did not.

My mental complaints were worthless, though, as I saw him shoulder his crossbow and walk toward the stable. Not long after, the rest of the group dispersed, eventually heading out toward the woods, all of them carrying guns and colored fabric. So not hunting: searching. Good. I'm sure Carol (she was the girl's mom, right...?) would appreciate it.

The next thing I saw was Daryl, on a horse, leaving the stables. I highly doubted Hershel had given him permission to use a horse. The redneck had probably just taken it. Why care about manners when things needed doing, right? That seemed to be his philosophy, at least. I sighed to myself, watching him leave. He looked comfortable on the animal, which was something of a relief. If he ran into trouble, he'd be able to run right out again- hopefully keeping both him _and _ the horse safe. And I realized I did want him to come back safe. Not just because of the obligatory "Everyone needs to stay alive as long as possible" survivor response; and not just because of the nurse instinct of helping people, either. I wanted him to come back because he was Daryl, and I knew him (kind of), and I still didn't know if he knew me (at all). I wanted to know, though, wanted to _talk_ to him- which was surprising enough in itself, but I wasn't about to question it. It's just... If he ran off and did something stupid, I'd never get the chance.

As he finally disappeared into the woods, I decided I'd had enough spying. That was, until Maggie appeared in my line of vision, striding purposefully away from the house. Where had she come from? Oh. She was talking to Glenn. Who was now sitting on the porch steps, his black hair just visible from my angle.

Was he holding a guitar?

Well, he had been, at least. Now he was walking off (in a different direction than Maggie, might I add), leaving the guitar alone on the porch. He shouldn't leave it outside, though. Elements and all that. Wouldn't want it to get ruined.

I headed downstairs, wanting to bring it inside to safety. The house was still quiet. Hell, it was even quiet outside. It wasn't the same quiet as my dream, though, so I didn't mind so much. Guitar safely retrieved, I put it in Carl's room. Nobody would bother it back there, especially since Carl was still pretty much always resting. I'm pretty sure he had been awake earlier, talking to his mom, taking medicine. But he was out like a light now. And who knows- maybe when he woke up he'd want a lesson.

* * *

I saw with Carl for a long time, reading. I thought about brushing up on the guitar, since I hadn't played in... geez, almost six years now; but I didn't want to disturb him. So I read. And I waited. And I fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was to his coughing. There was already a glass of water by his bed and he reached for it, swallowing it down, soothing his throat. Then he looked at me.

His gaze was almost as piercing as his father's. It was so honest, so direct. There was no danger there, just wonder.

"Hi," he said, smiling.

I paused before answering. This wouldn't just be a one-response deal, like it had been last time. Nobody else was around. If I talked to him, it was going to be a conversation. Convincing myself that I should- baby steps, Kathleen, baby steps- I finally answered. "Hey, kid." My voice was softer than his had been, and when he responded, he had matched his tone to mine.

"I didn't tell my mom."

"Didn't tell her what?"

"That you talked to me. I figured you would talk to her if you wanted to. Must be a reason why you haven't."

Well that was thoughtful of him. "Thanks, Carl."

"So why haven't you?"

Right to the point. Like father, like son. "You're parents think I can't talk, right?" He nodded and smiled, like it was an inside joke. I guess it kinda was. "Well, as you know, I can. I just avoid it."

"Why?"

"I only like talking to people I trust. And I don't know if I can trust everybody." No point in not being honest with him.

He looked surprised now. "But you're talking to me. You trust me?"

"Well, I helped Hershel save your life. I think that gives us something of a bond, don't you?" I asked with a wink.

Relaxing against thishe pillow, he kept up his inquiry. "You can trust my dad, too."

"I'm sure I can."

"But you don't?"

"Not yet."

He mulled this over. "Who else do you talk to?"

"The Greenes. Hershel and Maggie, mostly. I live here with them."

"Are they your family?"

"No."

"Where's your family?"

"I don't have any left."

"I'm sorry." He looked genuinely sad for my loss.

I smiled at him. He was a good kid. Clarke hadn't been a good kid at that age. I wish I could say that Carl reminded me of a young Clarke- but really, apart from both being boys, they didn't have much in common. Carl was quiet, observant, sharp. He had the blue eyes of his father, the soft brown hair of his mother; baby fat still clung to his cheeks. Clarke... Clarke was loud, obnoxious, and generally obtuse. He was constantly running around, playing sports, getting in fights- which he won a lot of, surprisingly enough. For a scrawny kid, he could pack a punch. He had green eyes, same as mine, which we both got from our mom, as well as her wavy chestnut hair. If we had traits of our father's, I wouldn't know. I'd never met him.

"No worries, kid. I'm at peace with it." Well... mostly... "But thanks." He nodded and drank more water. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

Leaving the room only briefly, I brought him back some more soup. He wasn't very good at hiding the face he made.

"You don't like soup?" I teased.

"It's good... It's just all I've eaten since I woke up here. Can't I have something else?"

"Not yet. The broth is really easy for your body to digest, while still getting you a lot of calories and nutrients. And since you took a bullet so close to your stomach, we don't want to put any more pressure on your body. Maybe in a few more days , huh? I'll try to sneak you in some bread or something."

He grinned, seeming to accept both my explanation and my peace offering. "Deal." I watched him eat for a few moments, feeling only a little creepy as I did so. He didn't seem to mind, and I was the first one to break the silence.

"When my brother was younger, he almost broke his arm playing soccer. We had to take him to the hospital to get an x-ray; and it was really late, we were basically there the whole night. The nurse that was taking care of him found out he liked those little jello cups- the green ones, ya know? She snuck him, like, five from the cafeteria. He loved that stuff. Don't know why, though. I always thought it was nasty."

Carl laughed. The soup was gone by now, the bowl set aside. "I liked the pudding better. The nurse who took care of my dad when he was in his coma always brought me some when we visited."

Wait. What? Rick had been in a coma? Note to self: investigate_that_ tidbit of information later. But right now, I had to set this kid straight. "Carl, what? The pudding? The pudding is worse than the jello."

"No way!" he said with a laugh. "It's so good!"

"Nuh uh. Gross."

He rolled his eyes. "So what'd you like?"

"At the hospital? Nothing. Their food is all gross. I should know. I worked there."

"You worked at a hospital?"

"Yeah, for a bit."

He yawned suddenly, reaching a hand up to cover his gaping mouth. "Were you a doctor?"

"No. But I'll tell you more about it later. You should keep resting."

"I don't want to. I want to keep talking to you. I like it."

Thoughtful _and_ adorable. This kid was gonna be a heartbreaker one day. "I like talking to you, too, Carl. But you need your rest. And so do I. I haven't talked this much in awhile. You've worn me out." It was true. Even though I had napped earlier, I still felt tired. First, though, a glass of water. I sounded terrible.

He grinned sleepily, letting me pull the covers back over his frame.

"Bye, Kathleen."

"Sleep well, Carl."

Hershel was waiting for me when I left Carl's room, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. I guess he didn't care that he had been eavesdropping. He didn't say anything at first, just smiled. I returned it, a little reluctantly, and went to get myself some water. Not really in the mood to talk more than I already had, I finished my drink and made to leave the room. It wasn't until I was at the door that he spoke.

"I know I said earlier that you should work on the medicine first... but I think this is good, too."

I rolled my eyes. Crazy old man.

* * *

"Kathleen!"

Wow, I was popular today. How did socialites do it? Interacting with people was so taxing. I'd rather be a hermit. I was pretty good at it already. Practicing right now, actually. After leaving Hershel in the kitchen, I had gone out to the porch with a book, hoping to avoid any more people and conversations. But it seemed that wasn't going to happen right now. I turned my head up just as Lori leaned out the front door.

All the ease and comfort I had felt when talking to her son not even an hour ago just... wasn't there with Lori. She wasn't a kid. She didn't have that innocence. She was an adult. She made choices and had a past and I didn't know her. So instead of verbally responding, I just raised a brow in question.

"Carol and I were plannin' on makin' dinner for you guys tonight, to thank you for all the help you've given us. I was wondering if you wanted to help?" She was asking me to help make my own 'thank you for helping us' dinner? That made sense... I felt a little bad even as I thought it, though. They were just trying to be nice. But she must have read the thoughts on my face, as she soon clarified: "You don't have to if you don't want to, but since Patricia and Beth wanted to, I figured you might want to, uh... too."

I grimaced and shook my head, hoping she wouldn't be offended. I wasn't a huge fan of cooking. Well... okay, that's not true. I just wasn't a huge fan of sharing the kitchen. Maggie had once learned that the hard way, during school when she tried to help me make stir-fry. I almost chucked the wok at her.

Luckily, Lori seemed to take it in stride, almost as if she had expected me to say no. She smiled and turned away, returned back to the house. Through the doorway, I could see Hershel talking to Maggie; and he didn't look very pleased as Maggie turned and walked away. Oh uh. I'd be hearing about that later, from one or both of them.

For now, though, my gaze turned out over the lawn. I watched Dale enter the RV that Andrea was using as a scout tower. I knew Lori and Carol, at least, were inside. Rick and Shane were cleaning their guns by the cars, I think. Glenn and T-Dog weren't in sight. Had Daryl returned yet? I realized, a frown coming over my face, that I would have no way of knowing whether he had or not. I guess not talking to people definitely had its downsides.

Sighing, I returned to my book- for all of two seconds before Andrea started yelling something about seeing a Walker. This close to the farm? No way. They'd never been this close. She must be wrong. I mean. It couldn't be... Could it? I sat up in my seat, book forgotten, and I waited.

Andrea's yelling- which, to be honest, sounded way more excited than concerned- was enough to induce a mild panic. The men of the group gathered, coming out of tents and the RV, weapons at the ready. Andrea readied her own gun, still on the RV, as the guys began to move out toward the field where the Walker was.

The people inside the house hadn't heard. At least, I don't think they did. I could still hear them talking in the kitchen. And as the small group of men moved past the RV, I watched them get smaller and smaller the closer they got to the woods. It was way too far for me to see, that was for sure. But then, out of nowhere, Dale was yelling at Andrea, who immediately after fired her rifle, and then Rick was the one yelling, sounding distinctly upset.

What the _hell_ was going on?

I stood up, trying to see better, my forgotten book now forgotten _and_ on the floor. The people inside were coming out to the yard, thanks to the sound of the gunshot. They looked as confused as I felt, each of them rushing out onto the lawn. Somebody yelled for Rick; but Hershel's voice, sounding angrier than I'd heard him in awhile, stood out as the loudest.

"What the hell's going on out here?"

Nobody answered him. I was the only one left on the porch, eyes straining to see what was going on in the field and suddenly feeling very anxious for whatever was coming our way. I didn't have to wait long to see what that was. Eventually, the shapes became clearer- Rick, Shane, T-Dog, and Glenn were returning; and they were carrying something. Andrea and Dale were with them as well, having run out to meet them.

They passed through the nearest fences, and I finally saw it. Saw _him_. They were carrying Daryl.

* * *

I reminded myself to thank Patricia later for insisting that every room in the house be always ready for guests. By the time the small party arrived at the house, an unconscious Daryl being supported by Shane and Rick, I had already set up the room next to Carl's, taking out fresh gauze, as well as tape, hydrogen peroxide, antibiotics, a needle, and thread. The men placed him on the bed, and he slowly began to wake up as Hershel and I removed his shirt and worked around him.

It kinda bugged me that everyone decided to stay and chat; but I guess the injuries weren't as severe as I thought they would be. So having them talk business while we cleaned him up wasn't _actually_ a big deal. That didn't stop me from being annoyed though.

And if I was being honest with myself, I was mainly annoyed at Daryl himself. I don't care if that made me a bad person or not. I mean, come_on_. Of _course_ he went out and did something stupid. Of _course_ he did. Hadn't I just mentally warned him of that earlier? But nooo. Here he is, with a hole through his side and a scrape on his head, numerous cuts and bruises- and, of course, he was dehydrated. _Idiot_.

I tried not to think of _why_ I was so bothered by all of this. It was definitely difficult. I'd never been particularly good at hiding how I was feeling. And right now I was feeling annoyed. Everyone know, too, judging by the looks they were giving me- especially Daryl. His gaze was constantly flicking to me as he talked to Shane about the little girl and her doll and the search grid they had going. He was curious, obviously; but I couldn't tell if he was curious because he recognized me (and I secretly hoped that was the case) or because he didn't know who the hell I was and what I was doing there (... probably more likely). Instead of letting it distract me, however, I focused on my work.

The hole in his side had come from one of his bolts, apparently, when he fell down a steep slope into a creek. He had pulled it out to bandage it, and it didn't look nearly as bad as it could have. Cleaning it, however, wasn't going to be as thorough as I would have liked. Who knew where that bolt had been before he dragged it through his body? Thank goodness we had antibiotics left. I sterilized a needle and began to sew both holes closed while Hershel worked on the scrape (which needed stitches, but probably wouldn't leave too bad of a scar).

Daryl was on his side in the bed, fidgeting under our administrations- mine, especially. He kept twisting to look back to me, trying to see what I was doing. Dufus. These stitches would never be good if he kept squirming. But he wouldn't stop. He just kept looking at my hands, at Shane, back at me, at Rick. When he wasn't actually speaking, his jaw was clenched; but he didn't look to be in too much pain. And if the guy could rip an arrow out of his person and walk all the way back here, I doubted my stitching was giving him much trouble. So why was he so tense? Maybe his compete inability to stay still was making it hurt more. He was saying something to Rick along the lines of a sarcastic "You're welcome," when I got sick of his movements and I reached my hand over to flick his ear.

He almost rolled onto his back in an attempt to find his attacker, but I pushed against his shoulder so that he wouldn't fall.

"Ow! Damnit, lady! What was that for?"

I almost laughed at how similar this was to the first time we met. I managed to contain myself, though. Rick and Shane had quieted. Hershel hadn't seen me flick him. And Daryl himself was glaring at me; but at least he had stopped moving. I quickly set to work, not letting the opportunity go to waste. After a moment, his gaze left me, and their conversation resumed. But I guess I'd gotten the message across, because he barely moved again until I had finished, taping the last piece of gauze on and moving away from him.

After a quick glance back at Daryl, I saw that he was as taken care of as he could be at the moment. I retreated, washing my hands and attempting to clean the needle before putting it and all the unused supplies away. I vaguely wondered where we had even stashed all of these needles and gauze. It was seriously like we had an unlimited supply or something.

Daryl then rolled onto his back, making use of the new space on the bed. He looked at me as Hershel began to ask him about the horse- the one that had "almost killed him." I resisted rolling my eyes, actually feeling a little sad that Nelly had run off. She was good for riding, even if she was skittish. Eventually, Shane and Rick both left, leaving me and Hershel with Daryl. I sat by as Hershel entered doctor mode and began to specify all of Daryl's injuries to him, making it clear what had happened, internally and externally, and how we had treated it. Daryl really didn't seem to care. He didn't hide his scoff when Hershel explained to him that he needed to rest.

"Right, old man. If you say so."

Hershel accepted his rudeness politely enough, but as soon as his back was turned, I reached a hand over and flicked Daryl again, harder this time. He scowled at me, his dirty features twisting to fit his glare. I wanted to glare back, but his facial expression- coupled with the massive white bandage on his head- was too comical, and I ended up grinning instead. This didn't help him out much, though, as now he looked both angry _and_ confused, cerulean irises flashing.

When he was finished, after Daryl had taken some antibiotics and all of the tools were put away, Hershel stood and moved to the door. I didn't immediately follow, prompting him to stop and turn. "Kathleen?"

Immediately, Daryl's eyes were back on me, curiosity winning out over his annoyance. I looked back at him, then at Hershel, debating whether or not to stay. This could be my chance to finally talk to Daryl; but he needed to rest. Then again, I'd rather stay with a sleeping Daryl than sit in a room full of chatty people. But who knew if Daryl even wanted to talk to me- I mean, he definitely didn't _seem_ to recognize me. Decisions, decisions.

Gazing back at Hershel, I saw how stressed he looked. Today hadn't been an especially good day for him- what with the horse being lost, and the guns going off, and the fight with Maggie, and having another patient- and I didn't want to make it worse. So I decided to oblige him. At least for a few minutes. Enough time to make an appearance, get some food, and then make a quick retreat... most likely to Daryl's room.

With one more glance at Daryl, who was now looking pretty exhausted, weary eyes following our movements, I followed Hershel out of the room and closed the door behind me.

* * *

Dinner was, as predicted, awful. It was awkward and tense, especially after Glenn began asking about the guitar... and Otis...

The women had good intentions, but... yeah. It didn't quite go as planned. Not bothering to stick around, I ate quickly and excused myself after some brief, non-verbal communication with Hershel. I'm pretty sure he knew where I really wanted to be; he just didn't know why. And I guess I didn't even really know why. Daryl was probably sleeping or something. And I doubt he wanted to see me, if he was awake. Flicking him earlier, twice, probably wasn't the nicest thing I could have done...

Oh well.

While eating, I had worked out a cover story; and it was pretty good for being so short-notice. If Hershel or anyone else asked, I was checking to make sure Daryl wasn't having any negative reactions to the medicine we had given him. That sounded pretty legitimate, right? Well... it would suffice, at least.

Taking a brief detour to the porch to retrieve my book, I meandered down the hallway to the room Daryl was in. Like Carl's, it had two doors. I approached from one, the door already slightly ajar, knuckles poised and ready to knock- when I saw that somebody had already entered through the other door.

Carol.

She was bringing dinner to Daryl, whose back was to her, sheets pulled up to cover as much of his torso as possible. She was saying something to him, but I couldn't quite hear what. He turned to look at her, sheets twisting around him. Then she leaned down and kissed his temple.

Oh.

_Oh._

Well...

Well, yeah.

That just happened.

I wanted to turn away at that point. But I couldn't. I just kept watching. He said something else to her. Her face became a little more morose before taking on some new determination. She kept talking; he replied, seemingly flustered as he pulled his pillow tighter. Then, with a parting response, she turned and left. Daryl stayed huddled in his sheets, staring off into space. If he tilted his head, just a little, he would be able to see me staring at him through the barely open door.

Part of me really wanted him to turn, just that little bit. To see me. To say something. But the larger part of me didn't ever want him to know I had seen that, whatever it was. I felt like I had witnessed something highly personal. Like I was an intruder.

I thought back to earlier, when they first arrived and I recognized Daryl. I had wondered what was tying him to this group if it wasn't his brother Merle. Now... Now, I guess I had my answer. Even if that answer only gave rise to more questions- the most prominent of which being: why was I so upset?

And I definitely was. Upset, I mean. I couldn't even keep track of my own thoughts, my internal monologue rambling. I didn't know Daryl. Not really. And I didn't know Carol. They could be the most suited couple in the entire world, apocalypse or no. I would have no idea. Maybe they'd been together before? But no, that little girl wasn't his daughter. Somebody would have said. Or maybe the little girl had brought them together? Who knows what they'd gone through together, what trials they'd faced. I'd never be a part of that. I guess it was pretty presumptuous to think he'd remember me. I mean, we'd met once. Sure, he'd saved me; but he was a hero type. He probably saved loads of people. It was stupid of me to think we'd be friends, or... or something. I dunno. I was being dumb. That was it. Dumb dumb dumb.

I was being dumb, and my heart was racing, and I kind of wanted to cry, and I definitely needed to get out of there. My breaths were becoming shallow and fast, and he was bound to hear me any moment now.

So not knowing what else to do, I retreated. I turned, book clutched to my chest, and made my way to the stairs, intending to take refuge in my room, alone. But I turned too fast, and the floorboard creaked. There's no way he hadn't heard it- hell, everyone in the house had probably heard it- but that didn't mean he had to know it was me. So I didn't turn back, and just kept on walking.

* * *

**A/N: Oooooh, angsty ending. I love it. I kinda went to town on this chapter. Lots of new scenes. I love writing Kathleen and Carl- who really gets on my nerves in the second season, actually. But he's such a little badass in the third season that I wanted to set up a good relationship for when I was finally able to write third season chapters. **

**Yeah. So. Some of Kathleen's past revealed. And she and Daryl finally interact. No chance to talk yet, though. Carol sabotaged it. Oops. I actually love this episode. Daryl is such a freakin' champ. **

**Next chapter will hopefully have some heavy-duty interaction between Daryl and Kathleen. But before I post that, I'm hoping to post another chapter in "Dry Fire." So stay tuned. :)**


	5. When you feel so tired

**A/N: Aaaaghhhh I had to rework this chapter so many times. So much pressure on the first conversation. But I think I got it to a good place. I had to reschedule a lot of ideas I had for later chapters, but I like it. It's also friggin' loooong. So yeah. Maybe I should get a beta. That might help my writing stress levels. We'll see. **

**And also... Thanks for all the support! I'm loving it. So many people have put this on alert in the past week. I'm honored. :) Here's the next chapter. I'm not even gonna beat around the bush (well... not that much ;). Lots of Daryl. They're friendship is finally beginning! I'm so exciteddd.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

I should've known I wouldn't be able to stay away for long. I didn't really _want_ to stay away, even after last night... seeing him with Carol...

Nope. Not gonna think about it.

So here I am, in his room, watching him sleep like the stalker that I am. It was kinda weird, actually. Being this close, I could see how he'd aged since we first met. There were more lines around his eyes and mouth. But that was to be expected; it was a long time ago. He looked so relaxed, though, just resting. And even if he looked older to me than he had when we first met, I'm assuming he looked younger now, in this moment, than he had in awhile.

He didn't move much in his sleep. Still on his side, his hands were fisted in the sheet, bring it up to his chin. Shaggy auburn hair stuck out at ridiculous angles thanks to the white bandage strapped to his cranium. His face was still grossly dirty. I'm sure it would bother Patricia, knowing that such a filthy man was mucking up her sheets. But until he was given the okay to head out, there wasn't much to be done.

I sighed and tucked my feet under me, getting comfortable. This morning had brought another nightmare, but there was no Hershel this time to distract me. There was only Daryl.

Well, he was unconscious. I'm not sure if he even counted. But it still felt nice to see him. To know he was okay, even after... well, all that had happened in the woods. Whatever that entailed. I didn't know all the details, only what I'd overheard during the conversation with Shane and Rick. And that wasn't very much at all. But seeing him now- it was calming. It sounded kind of ridiculous; I didn't actually know this man. For all intents and purposes, he was a stranger just like the rest of his group. But Daryl was a part of my old life. A really small, brief part. A good part (even if the circumstances were less than savory...). I mean, he had saved me, and that kind of memory is strong. It doesn't just go away. And now that that part of my old life had shown up in my new life, I wanted to keep it around. To do that, I had to make sure he was okay. Er... medically speaking, at least. I also had to make sure I never (_ever_) told him that. Geez. He'd probably think I was a freak. So definitely _ixnay_ on the _ellingtay_.

It made it easier that he was asleep. Less pressure. I realized that yesterday, during all the excitement, I hadn't really... considered him, ya know? Not like I was doing now. I'd been looking at him at a distance for days, wondering what it would be like to finally interact with him, to talk to him. And then suddenly it was "must save Daryl" time and I was treating him and flicking him (which, I'll admit, was rude of me) and I never took a moment to appreciate: _Oh hey, I'm finally interacting with Daryl._

Nope. It was all work and no play.

And I guess there would never be any play... at least. Not that kind of play.

Nope. Still not thinking about it. Geez. It really wasn't any of my business. I mean, just because I've met him before doesn't mean- and then there's Carol- and just because he's painfully attractive- I mean, good heavens, look at the arms gripping those sheets- _No_. None of my business._ Bad, Kathleen. Bad._

A scuffle in the next room caught my attention. Why would Carl be awake this early?

Oh. He wasn't. He was having a nightmare. I sat at his bedside, trying me best to not disturb him too abruptly. I placed my hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.

"Carl? Carl, honey, wake up." Nothing. A little harder in tapping on his back. "Carl?" He only squirmed some more. Man, this kid was really under. "Ca-" And then he was gasping, shaking a little, his hands grasping at mine. His eyes were wide and scared, but once they focused, looking first at our hands, then at me, he began to calm down. I loosened one of my hands so that I could brush the hair off of his forehead. "Hey, hon. It's alright. It was just a nightmare." He nodded, but didn't seem to be really listening. Poor kid. He could be having a nightmare about any number of things. After all that group had seen, and being shot... I probably shouldn't ask him about it just yet. Once he'd calmed down some more, eased my other hand away as well, which he seemed pretty reluctant about. "I'm gonna get you some water and food. Maybe something other than soup, huh?"

He relaxed enough to give me a small smile as he nodded. Returning it, I stood. "I'll be right back." He watched me go, and I could tell he was still trying to calm himself down. Once I was back in the hallway, I was tempted to peek into Daryl's room as I passed; but with a considerable amount of willpower, I resisted. I didn't need to become a real stalker. Nope. Not me. I went right to the kitchen. In the middle of slicing some bread for Carl, Maggie all but stormed in, looking oddly scared.

"Good, you're here."

"Oh, good morning, Maggie. I'm doing well, thanks for asking-"

"Don't be a smartass. I need to talk to you."

She leaned on the counter next to me, arms cross, tapping her toe. Yeah, she was definitely upset about something. I thought back to what I had seen the day before... "Does this have anything to do with you and your dad arguing yesterday?"

She looked confused. "What? No. Well, yes. Maybe. I dunno."

"Okay... what's up?"

"Glenn found out about the barn."

And the bread I had just been slicing (this piece for Daryl: whether I was a stalker or not, the man had to eat) now probably had my blood on it. "Shit! Shit shit fuck owwwww!" I moaned, wrapping a towel around my bleeding palm. It had been the end of the loaf, so I had it gripped in my hand to cut it. I had meant to just slice until the crust and then break it... but those plans had changed. "Damnit, Maggie! You couldn't have warned me just a _little_?"

She now look even more stressed, hands raking through her hair. "Oh God! Sorry, Kat. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'll get it in a sec. Just... finish this story first."

She didn't need more prompting than that, but she still kept an eye on the steadily-reddening towel wrapped around my hand. "Well, Daddy and I were arguin' yesterday about Glenn and he wanted me to stay away from him, which I thought was unfair. So I told him-Glenn- last night that we could meet up again, and he wrote me a note to meet him in the loft of the barn, but I didn't read it until it was too late, and now he knows and he hates me."

"Breathe, Maggie. He doesn't hate you. He's probably in shock."

She gave me a blank look. "That's what you chose to address first?"

"Yes. Next: don't fight with Hershel. It always makes bad things happen."

"Kat, what are we gonna do?"

"Did you ask Glenn to keep quiet?"

"Well, yeah, but that's not gonna last forever."

"I'd talk to him again. Try to convince him to trust Hershel. And maybe you should tell Hershel, too. He might be able to talk to Rick about it before any more shit hits the fan."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I can't tell Dad! He'd be so mad... Ugh, I'm so stupid!"

"You're not stupid, Maggie. Things happen. It was a mistake, but you can still try to fix it."

"Yeah... yeah, you're right. I'll go talk to him, I guess. You're sure you don't need anything?" she asked, casting a wary glance at my hand.

"I'll be fine. Go deal with this. And keep me posted."

"'Kay. Thanks, Kathleen. Oh, hey-" she began, turning back around as if just remembering something. "Did you talk to him yet?"

I sighed. "Daryl? No."

"Are you goin' to?"

"I don't know, Maggie. I mean. I don't think he remembers me. Like, at all. So it probably doesn't matter."

"It does, Kat. Just... talk to him. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, there is that crippling fear I have. So I might vomit all over him. Then I'll die of embarrassment, come back to life, and try eat him."

"It's hardly cripplin'. You've been doin' more than fine so far, even with all these new people here."

She was right. I had been doing much better than I originally thought I would at the prospect of strangers coming to the farm. Maybe time had helped more than I knew... "Yeah, well. We'll see."

"Also, somethin' is wrong with you. Vomit? Really?"

I laughed. "Go talk to Glenn."

She turned to go, but parted with a "Just talk to him, Kat!" thrown over her shoulder.

I rolled my eyes and arranged the bread all on one plate so that I could carry it in my uninjured hand. Damnit, Maggie. I needed my hands. And hand cuts are the worst. Anytime something touches it, it'll sting like a bitch. Oh well. Too late now. Hopefully the barn situation will turn out better than the bread one had.

* * *

Carl was sitting up when I got back.

"Hey, Bud. Here's some bread, right from our top chef."

He smiled. "Thanks."

"No problemo."

"What happened to your hand?"

"I, uh... Well, Maggie surprised me when I was cutting, and... yeah."

"Does it hurt?"

I laughed. "Probably not as much as getting shot, but yeah. It stings."

He smiled, munching away at his bread. Adorable. As he continued to eat, he looked around. "Is there anything to do around here? It's so boring."

I noticed he was avoiding talking about the nightmare. Fair enough. "Well... do you know guitar?" He shook his head. "Well, do you like to read?"

"Sometimes."

"How about I grab a few books for you? There are some in the other room, and I have to take some bread to Daryl anyways."

"My mom told me about that. How is he?"

"Well, he hasn't woken up yet. But I think he'll be fine. Grouchy, probably, but that's nothing new."

He grinned. "How did you know Daryl is grumpy?"

Shwoops... Backtrack, Kathleen. "He was a sourpuss when your dad and Shane carried him in."

"Oh, yeah. Well he is like that a lot. I like him, though."

"Yeah... yeah, I think I will, too. I'm gonna go bring him breakfast and check on him. I'll be back soon with your books, okay?"

He nodded and began gazing around in thought as I left. My focus, upon entering Daryl's room, was on remaining quiet. He was sleeping. No need to disturb him anymore than I probably already had (my cursing earlier _might_ have been a little loud...). So, putting the bread on the dresser by the bookshelves, I began to peruse.

"Kathleen, right?"

_HOLY SH-_ I turned around to see Daryl sitting up in bed, staring at me. My heart was racing from the scare, and I reached a hand up to clutch at my chest- which, I realized too late, was my injured hand. So that hurt.

I think he saw the pain on my face, because he looked surprisingly apologetic. "Didn't mean t'scare ya."

He was actually frowning a little as he watched me. Holy crap. My heart was still in overdrive. But that might not have everything to do with him scaring me. This was it. This was the moment. Do I talk to him? Maybe just a 'Hi, how are ya?' Yeah. I could do that. Hi. Hi. Hi_iiughh_. Why is he so good looking? Even as a dirty invalid. That is just... it's impressive.

"You okay?"

I nodded, trying to work up just a little bit more courage. Why was I being such a spazz? I just needed to keep thinking of him as Daryl-who-saved-me-from-that-strange-guy and not Daryl-potentially-dangerous-stranger. Because he wasn't that. He was the first one. Which I couldn't say for all of his friends, but he should be good. For now.

My indecision was interrupted. "Kathleen?" Carl was standing in the doorway. What? When had he gotten there? I looked at him, waiting, still not ready to talk. He picked up on my thoughts pretty quick, though, and kept talking himself.

"Mom officially took me off bed rest, so I don't need those books. Hershel said I could move yesterday, I guess, but she insisted on more night. I'm gonna go hang out with everyone else outside today." I smiled at how excited he looked. "Wanna come?"

I shook my head and gestured toward Daryl.

Carl looked behind me, toward the fellow patient, suspicion in his gaze. "You're sure? I could stay."

I smiled. Was he offering to protect me from Daryl? Cute. Unnecessary, but cute. I nodded that I was sure and moved to ruffle his hair. He accepted this and finally turned away. But at the door, he looked back.

"Daryl?"

"...Yeah?" I glanced back at the man on the bed. He'd clearly been watching us, but he looked a little more than surprised to be so suddenly included.

"Kathleen doesn't talk much. Don't bother her, okay?"

What. An adorable. Child. At least I thought so. Daryl's snort said he thought otherwise. "Whatever you say, Boy Wonder."

Carl nodded once, seemingly satisfied. He gave me another smile, and left. Deciding to take care of my own injury first, I quickly cleaned, bandaged, and wrapped it. I could still flex my fingers, but the gauze would stay on. Daryl had watched me do this, and now I turned to him so I could check his bandages. He grimaced and fidgeted as I unwrapped his head; but when it was all off, he definitely looked relieved. The injury wasn't that bad- we had used a couple of small stitches, and they should prevent any intense scarring. So far, so good.

"He likes you."

I jumped, not expecting him to speak. Wiping gently at the dried blood around his temple, I looked at his eyes... those cerulean eyes... that were looking right back at me...

Nobody would believe that my heart was still beating that hard because of the scare, right? ... Didn't think so.

I nodded once, and Daryl just continued to look at me as I worked, trying replacing the bandage on his side (which I could barely get at since he wanted to keep the sheets so damn high). This injury, too, was healing nicely. It was a clean-through hole, also needing minor stitches. But it would heal fast with no infection. Both wounds would be sore for a few days, but he was never near the danger that Carl had been in.

"I know ya ain't a mute. Heard ya talkin' to the kid earlier."

I smirked and shook my head.

"So why don't ya talk?"

Shrug.

He scoffed. "Fine. Be that way."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him as I finished up.

"Can I go now?"

Ouch. Well. I guess I wasn't doing very well in the 'bedside manner' department... shouldn't be too surprised... I nodded, moving back from him, trying not to let his stand-offishness offend me. It had been my own fault. If I could just friggin' say something...

But hey. There was time. Next time... next time I'd open my mouth. I'd talk until i was blue in the face. Yeah. I'd do that.

"Hey," Daryl began, sitting up in bed with only one noticeable wince. I looked over at him to let him know I was listening, once again assessing his condition. He definitely looked better today, overall. More rested, physically- but maybe more stressed? I wondered why that would be, or if probably had something to do with the missing little girl. At least the bandage was out of his hair and he didn't look so ridiculous. "Were you outside my room last night?"

What the... how did he know? He had asked the question casually enough, slipping his shirt on while he talked so that I couldn't see his face. Clever duck... Should I tell him? What could it hurt, right? I could just say I was going to check on him. That's perfectly legitimate. And mostly true. I'd just have to say it. But what if he figures out I'm practically stalking him. That would be pretty horrible. Damnit.

"Kathleen?" Saved by the Hershel. He came through the doorway, and two seconds behind him were Rick and Shane. "I see you've already checked on our patient. How is he? Good?" I nodded, glancing at the new men, who smiled at me. Another glance at Daryl showed him looking very... perturbed? "Good. That's good. Rick and Shane need to talk to him now, so how about we give them some privacy?"

I nodded again. Remembering just before I left just why I had gone in there. I moved the bread plate closer to Daryl, but I still didn't say anything. And now he was looking at me with outright suspicion, like I was conning him or something. Shoot. What was that man thinking...

As I left, I heard him begin to talk to Rick, the first words out of his mouth: "'Sup with that girl?"

"Kathleen? She doesn't talk much."

"Much? I don't think I've heard her say one word," was Shane's contribution.

"Huh."

A few minutes later, the three men were walking out of the house, Daryl casting one more glance my way- a look full of both danger and caution- before the door closed behind them.

I followed them as far as the window. Hershel, apparently, had really just wanted to get me out of the room. He'd disappeared as soon as Rick, Shane, and Daryl had left. But I was still there, watching the three make their way over to their camp. Daryl favored his left side, just a little. You could only really see it if you were looking for it. And of course I did, because I was.

I was distracted from Daryl, however, when I saw Glenn walking around looking pretty out of it. He was carrying an almost empty bushel of peaches, stumbling like he had a fever or something. Waving him toward me, he thought I wanted a peach. But the first thing I reached for was his forehead, pressing the back of my hand to it gently.

"I'm not sick," he said. "Just, uh... just tired. Yeah. Tired. Want a peach?" Frowning, I tried to look him in the eye. But he wasn't having any of it. "No? Okay. Well. I don't know what to do with the rest of them. Should I put them in the kitchen? Maggie gave them to me, so-" I took the bushel from his hands. "Oh, thanks. I'm gonna just... go... yeah."

And then he was gone. What the heck? I definitely needed to talk to Maggie. But first: peaches. I should probably put them back inside... but once that was done... I wonder if Daryl had gotten one? Was it too soon to go talk to him again? No. It had only been twenty minutes. He was probably still busy with Rick and Shane. Besides- what would we even talk about? It's not like our conversation had been flowing before. What would have changed in just a couple of hours? Except for maybe his opinion of me... That look he'd given me right before he left earlier. What was that all about? Okay, so I didn't talk to his friends. Or to him, even. That didn't make me a bad person.

Damnit. Why did it even matter what he thought? I had to remind myself that it didn't. He was just a guy. He doesn't know me. I don't know him. There was no place for either of us to judge. Except... I knew, really, why his opinion mattered. Why his opinion was everything. In this new version of the world, having someone from your old life, even if that someone was that crazy cat lady down the street that you never talked to, was like... it was like when you would get a test back and your teacher had marked something wrong, and then you found out you'd gotten it right after all. You got those extra points, and those points changed everything.

And that analogy was really sup-par, but the feeling of relief was still somewhat comparable. After all that struggle, you got something back. And that was so rare. I mean, I had more than some. I had Hershel and Maggie. But now, maybe, I also had Daryl. And that was really exciting. And terrifying. And great. And horrible.

I'm very conflicted about this.

I tried to let my confusion drive my determination, which actually kinda worked. So, feeling a little rejuvenated in the "What to do about Daryl" department, I picked out two peaches and left the rest in the kitchen. Trekking back outside, fully intent on visiting Daryl, wherever he was, I was surprised that the first person I saw was Hershel. He was on the porch, overlooking the camp and the strangers and family.

"Hey," I said, coming to stand next to him.

He looked down at me somewhat severely. "Were you talking to that man earlier? Daryl?"

Um... what? How did Hershel know everything? "No, but I wanted to."

He shook his head. "You know him?"

"I might. What's wrong with him?"

"I just don't want them to get too comfortable."

"Why not?"

His eyebrows rose in surprise. I knew what he was thinking: _Why would I, of all people, be asking for people to stick around?_ It was a legitimate question. But still. I wasn't a child. I loved Hershel and all that he had done for me, but if I wanted to talk to a boy, that was my prerogative.

"It's too risky. They know about the barn."

"All of them?"

"Only a matter of time."

"You think it'll be so big of an issue that they'll need to leave?"

"For some of them, no. For others... Yes."

His eyes had found Shane, who was by a car getting ready to go somewhere.

"Shane? You don't like him?" I asked, thinking I already knew the answer.

"He's a dangerous kind of man. He revels in it. If he finds out, he'll be upset. He'll want to act."

"Won't Rick stop him?"

"He might try, but he'd probably be the only one. I doubt any of them will know who to side with, even Daryl."

I noticed the pointed look he gave me. "You don't think Daryl would help Rick?"

"I think Daryl is a good man. Brave. Strong. But scared. He needs guidance just like the rest of us."

I nodded, considering this. For just meeting Daryl, I could see how that would be a fairly accurate assessment. But...

"You disagree?"

I almost laughed. He could read me so easily. "I agree that he's good. And maybe even that he's scared. But... I've met Daryl before. A long time ago. I was in a crummy situation, and he got me out. Just like that. He saved me and didn't ask for anything back. I mean, he complained the whole way, but he did it. And I know people change, but that kind of resolve... I like to think that it wouldn't go away so easily."

"He didn't seem to recognize you."

"No. No, I don't think he remembers meeting me. But I can't forget, ya know?"

"Maybe you should remind him. I'm sure he'd like a friend, just like you."

"Maggie wants me to tell him, too. But I haven't decided yet. We'll see."

Hershel frowned when I said Maggie's name. "Have you talked to Maggie today?"

"Just a little over breakfast. She scared me," I said, holding up my bandaged hand. "Bread knife," was my explanation.

"She's getting too comfortable with that Glenn boy. He found out about the barn first."

"She told him?"

"It was an accident. But it happened, and now we have to deal with it."

I nodded and we stood in silence for a moment, watching a few of the group members meander around the yard. I didn't see Daryl and assumed he was in his own tent. Hopefully resting. And getting plenty of fluids. Hershel apparently noticed that my gaze had stopped.

"You should tell him."

"It's not a big deal. We met once. What, does that mean we're supposed to be friends now or something?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it does. Won't know until you talk to him."

With that, Hershel went back inside. Damnit, old man. When Maggie told me to talk to him, I could ignore him. But when Hershel said it, I felt like not doing it was wrong. Like I was disobeying my father or something. This must be what Maggie felt like yesterday when I saw her storm off. It's all... disappointment, and anger, and stubbornness, and who knows what else. I wasn't used to it, and I didn't like it.

* * *

A couple of hours later found me waking up from a nap. These nightmares were really screwing with my sleep schedule... But my alarm wasn't supposed to go off for another ten minutes. Why-

"Maggie? Maggie, honey, what's wrong?"

The girl was pacing at the foot of my bed, fingers gripping at her hair. "Glenn's an idiot!" she practically yelled.

I almost laughed. I probably would have if she didn't look so distraught. "What are you talking about?"

"First he gets me in trouble with Daddy for figurin' out about the barn, then he goes and tells Dale, so soon everybody'll know. Meanwhile, they all treat him like he's nothin' but they still have him runnin' all their little errands! And he'll keep that secret, that a baby is comin', but not mine? Damnit! Why did I ever start somethin' with him in the first place?"

When she had finished her mini rant, she flopped onto the bed next to me. Adjusting myself, I reached over and began to stroke her hair.

"First off, they were bound to find out about the barn sooner or later. Yes, Hershel's upset. But we'll deal with it. It's not your fault all this happened, okay?" She moaned and rolled to her side so that I could still play with her hair while she looked at me, a pout firmly on her face. "Second, if Glenn has his place in the group, he has that place. Why does it upset you so much?"

"Because they're all sittin' around good and safe while he's out riskin' his neck! It's not fair!"

I smiled. "So you do like him."

"Well, I don't want to see him die!"

"Nope. You like him and that is why you started something with him."

Her pout turned into a glare. "Whatever."

"So who's pregnant?" _Please don't be Carol, please don't be Carol..._ Still not any of my business but _please please don't be Carol_.

"Lori. Rick's wife. She needed pills and stuff. Glenn and I got attacked tryin' to get the stuff." _Yesssss it's not Carol!_

But it's still none of my business.

"You _what_?" I looked at her more closely, only now seeing the blood on her shirt.

"We're fine, Kat. Both of us. Glenn... Glenn saved me."

Relaxing at her reassurance, I went back to teasing her. "Oh. Glenn saved you. I see."

"Don't even start with me, Kathleen. I don't want to talk about him."

"Well what do you want to talk about?"

She shrugged, my fingers still weaving through her hair. "Did you talk to Daryl this morning?"

"No."

"Do you know if he remembers you yet?"

"I don't think so. Hershel thinks I should tell him, though."

"You should. Soon. Before it gets weird, ya know?"

"Yeah. I was thinking of visiting him tonight. I have to check on his bandage anyways."

"Oh. Check on his bandage. I see," she mocked.

"Shut it."

A few minutes later Maggie left to go clean herself up. I did the same, attempting to wipe the sleep out of my eyes, before heading downstairs to see what needed to be done.

* * *

Dinner is what needed to be done, apparently. No real surprise there, though. Maggie didn't cook, Beth was always off doing something, and Patricia... well, she helped Hershel take care of the land. And the barn. Specifically.

I knew the other group wouldn't be eating with us again, so I kept the food simple. Soup and bread and vegetables. Very nutritious. Also pretty much the only thing I could make. Soup was kinda my forte. Nobody complained, though, which was nice. Then again... nobody said much of anything. Our usual routine of gathering, talking about our days while eating, and then dispersing to do whatever until sleep- well, it didn't involve the "talking about our days" part tonight. Everyone had their own thoughts and worries. Maggie and Glenn, Hershel and the barn, Patricia and... something. It was a pretty stressful time for us, I guess. Definitely more stressful than it had been in ages, especially with Otis gone. He was always the one to cheer everybody up.

Soon enough, dinner was over and the tense silence that was present throughout the meal persisted until everyone was gone and it was just me. So it was still silent, just... not so tense. Before leaving, Maggie had looked pointedly out the window toward where I knew Daryl's tent would be. Super subtle, Mags.

Cleaning up didn't take me long. It's not like we were barbarians in the kitchen. But I found myself purposefully taking longer. The longer it took me to clean the kitchen, the longer I had to plan what I was doing after I finished cleaning.

And I planned to talk to Daryl after I finished cleaning. I definitely did. It was going to happen. So a plan would definitely be welcome.

Should I just tell him, straight out? Should I ask if he remembers me? Would he even care? That's probably the most relevant question. Why should he care? I'm just some chick. He probably won't. But Hershel and Maggie were right. Telling him wouldn't hurt, right? Well, it might hurt my pride. Just a little. But I think I can resist vomiting on him or dying of embarrassment. That sounded pretty manageable. So yes. I would tell him. Right now. Riiight... now. Oh geez. Okay. Here I go.

But first... I grabbed some pain pills and antiseptic wipes. I might as well have a good cover, just in case. WIth those, and two peaches from the bushel I had left in the kitchen earlier, I headed outside.

Almost immediately, Glenn came up to me. Plans: interrupted.

"How's Maggie? Is she okay?"

Raising a brow at him, I nodded.

"Look, I know that you don't want to talk to me, and that's fine. But could you please talk to her? For me? I know she's mad, and I understand why; but I can't... I can't just lie for her. I can't. No matter how much I like her."

Aww, Glenn. I nodded again, smiling to let him know I would do as he asked. I knew what Maggie could be like when she was mad at you. That girl was confusing as hell. Poor Glenn was probably questioning his own sanity by now. I didn't know what I could say that would help, but it was worth a shot.

"Really? Thank you! Thanks. I really appreciate it. And sorry, about earlier. I was just... thinking. I didn't mean to be rude."

I shrugged at him and held out one of the peaches. A peace offering of sorts. He took it, smiling and nodding to himself, then walked away. Yeah... he was definitely confused. I think Maggie was asleep, though, so that conversation would have to wait until tomorrow.

Now. Back to Daryl.

As long as I don't think about Carol, I should be fine. I think. I hope...

His tent had a small light inside of it, but no extra shadows. That was a relief. Things could have gotten really awkward, really fast, if other people were around to ruin my plans. The main flap was open, but I had to push the screened one away to get into the tent. Daryl was lying on his cot, face turned away from me. Was he... sleeping?

Are you _kidding_ me? Right when I work up the nerve to finally have a conversation with him and he's _sleeping_? Fml.

"You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna say somethin'?" His voice was low, both in volume and in tone, but it still surprised me. Okay. So I guess he wasn't sleeping. Breathing deeply, he turned his head to look at me, a hand coming up to rub at his eyes. "Nah, guess you wouldn't say anything', huh?" I shrugged, sitting cross-legged by him. I saw the discarded book. Had he fallen asleep reading? I didn't peg him as the type... Huh. Looking back at him, I saw he was looking at me intently. "Why're you here?"

I held out the peach, which, after a moment, he took. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out the pain pills, too. He examined them, still in my hand, before taking them and dry-swallowing.

I watched as he relaxed- still keeping a wary eye on me, though- and began to eat.

"You gonna say somethin', Mighty Mouse? Or are you just gonna stare at me all night?"

I very well _could_ just stare at him all night; but he didn't need to know that. But this was my chance. I could just... talk. And he was there. Listening. I could do this. Baby steps. Start small. Hell, just start at all. I mean, it can't be-

"I'm sorry about flicking you the other day." His eyes cut to me in surprise. I could feel my own widen. That wasn't how I was planning on starting, but okay... "And about not talking to you this morning. And just now. I don't like to talk. I only really talk to Hershel and Maggie, and Carl, I guess- people I know, ya know? So this is a little weird for me." _Why couldn't I stop rambling?!_ "But I wanted to talk to you because it's been so long since I've seen someone from before. And I never thought I would again; but then you guys showed up and at first I didn't recognize you, but then I did. And here you are. Alive and well and probably thinking I'm crazy, but that okay. I guess I am a little crazy." Dear Lord, _please stop._ "Anyways. So. I'm Kathleen. And you're Daryl. And you probably don't remember, but I do. And so I wanted to talk to you. I'm not expecting us to be best friends or anything. But. Yeah. I brought fruit. And pain killers. I figured you'd like them for another night. Those probably still hurt," I finished, gesturing toward his head and torso as I caught my breath.

Then the full force of my ramble hit me.

Oh man.

Oh _man_.

What had I just _done_?

Yeah, Kathleen. You don't want him to think you're a crazy stalker? Good start.

He had frozen while I ranted. I would have, too, if I hadn't been freaking out. But when I finished, he took another bite of peach, quick to lick the juice off his fingers. "Ya know, for everyone tellin' me yer a mute, ya sure talk a lot."

I laughed, still nervous. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do."

"Whaddya mean you recognized me from before?"

The sigh came out before I realized it. "I didn't think you'd remember."

"Remember what?"

"It was years ago. I was on a roadtrip with friends. Our car broke down, and Merle helped us out-" I noticed his flinch at Merle's name. What was that about?- "and I was... well, I was really mean to you. But then you helped me out at the bar. That guy-"

"He drugged you."

"You _do_ remember?" I just barely managed to contain my smile.

"Startin' to. He tried to have me arrested fer breakin' his jaw. Definitely remember that."

Huh. So he really had beat him up. How... chivalrous?

"Did you ever get my note?"

"Yeah. Guess ya never worked on the zen thing, though," he said around a mouthful of peach.

"Ass."

He smirked. "Nope. No zen."

I smiled, suddenly feeling much more relaxed. This really wasn't so bad. Hershel and Maggie had been right all along. All I had to do was start talking, and here I was- chatting with Daryl Dixon like we were old friends. Kind of. We were getting there, at least. Slowly.

"So is that why ya don' talk t'Shane or Rick or anyone? Ya don't know 'em?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'm not a big fan of strangers."

"Ya scared of 'em?"

"Well... yeah. Kinda."

"Why?"

"Bad experience."

"There's plenty of those goin' 'round."

We were silent for a few moments as he ate. I couldn't help but look at him. He was so... I dunno. I think it would be unfair to say familiar, but comforting was good, too. Daryl was just... Daryl. He didn't hide anything or beat around the bush. He was a man, a hunter, a brother. A brother- Merle.

"Daryl?"

"Hm?"

"Where's Merle?"

Daryl stilled, thumb still in his mouth as he finished his fruit. "Dunno."

"But he's alive?"

"Why do you care?" He was upset now. Defensive. I needed him to know I didn't mean any harm. So I told him the truth.

"I- I lost my brother. A long time ago. I'd never wish that on anyone."

It seemed to work. Chucking the pit out the tent flap, he looked back at me. "He's alive. We lost track of 'im in Atlanta. Haven't seen 'im since. But he's alive. I know he is."

I nodded, trusting that he would know if his blood was still alive and pumping elsewhere. But now our conversation was depressing, and I wanted to cheer him up. (Still: not obsessed with the man.)

"Merle kinda scared me when I met him."

Daryl snorted. "Ain't surprised. Yer friends liked 'im well enough, though."

"Oh geez. Don't remind me. They were still talking about him after the trip."

"You'll have t'tell 'im that if- _when__-_ we see 'im again."

"I will."

"Whadya remember about that night, anyways? Ya were pretty out of it."

"Most of it, actually. I pieced some pieces together afterward, while we were driving."

"Huh."

"My friends told me you'd beat that guy up, but I don't think I ever really believed it until tonight."

"Yeah... prob'ly shouldn't've. But it was a long time ago."

"Did you and Merle stay in that town?"

"Mm... we hunted there for awhile. Moved on to another town... Same ol', same ol."

I could hear the exhaustion in his voice. I guess the pain pills were hitting him kinda hard. That was probably my cue to leave. And that was good. This was good. He'd been way more... I dunno... nice about it than I thought he'd be. But that might just be the medication. Either way- my huge, embarrassing ramble set aside- this was a giant baby step. Maybe even a _normal_ size step.

Maggie is gonna be so proud.

Daryl suddenly yawned and adjusted himself in the sleeping bag, those cerulean eyes succumbing to sleep.

"I'm gonna go. You should rest."

Slowly, I backed my way out of the tent, careful to be as quiet as possible. But just like this morning, he surprised me.

"Hey!"

I looked back. The mesh of the screen only slightly obscured his features, but he was sitting up, just a little, looking at me. His gaze was still strong and direct as he cleared his throat. "Thanks. Fer tellin' me." I nodded, a little surprised at the sentiment. He was still talking, though. "And we ain't friends or nothin'-" and here I had to look away from his stare, glancing at the floor instead- "but... we're not strangers." And with that, I could look back at him. He looked less intense now as sleepiness once more crept into the corners of his eyes. But as he grew more tired, I grew more surprised. What did he have to gain from telling me this? Daryl seemed like the 'better off alone' type. Heck, he'd stated it outright to Rick. And now he was reaching out? But he _still_ wasn't done. "Our... our brothers. And this hell out here... and when we met before-" I just kept staring. He could probably see how stunned I was by now. I wasn't exactly hiding it. But I'm pretty sure he was going entirely off of exhaustion and drugs right about now. "What i mean is... Ya don't haf'ta be scared of me." And there it was. The climax of his speech. He had admitted it gruffly, almost unwillingly, before the moment passed. Yep. Definitely sleep-deprivation and pain killers. But still. Even if it was in an altered state, he was reaching out. To _me_. He was having an embarrassing ramble of his own, reciprocating my earlier, fumbling start to this conversation. He was basically admitting that we were... friends? Glancing at his face, I saw the tiredness, but also the nervous determination that was there. He meant what he was saying, even if it was only the drugs that allowed him to say it.

So I smiled. "I know. And I'm glad."

He nodded, then seemed to realize how sentimental he'd just gotten. "Now scram, Orphan Annie. And don't bring me any more of those drugs. They're makin' me all funny."

I did as I was asked. I saw him turn his back to me, burrowing further into his cot, and I couldn't help but smile. We were friends. Daryl and I... we were friends. He might deny it, but I'm pretty sure it was true.

_Well that only took years of thinking about him, days of stalking him, and a couple of doses of drugs to happen._

I could already tell our friendship was gonna be super easy.

* * *

**A/N: Okay. So there ya go. They're friends. Holy crap. I was having such a hard time thinking of a situation that would make it believable. And I settled on drugs. Just gateway drugs, though, to get them through the door (haha). From now on, they'll just have to awkwardly figure things out on their own.**

**Also, from now on, I'm gonna try to add snippets to the narrative that follow Daryl, away from Kathleen. To spice things up. Also, with all that happens in season 2, I think it'll help you guys to see how they're relationship is developing, instead of just following Kathleen, who rambles and second-guesses a lot. Which makes things like this chapter verrrrry difficult.**

**Let me know what you think. It was pretty hard to write.**

**Oh, and there should be a "Dry Fire" post up soon. After last week's episode... I've been working on a sentimental chapter. I can't get over what happened, so I've been writing about it. Anyways. Yes. Enjoy. And review. Please. :)**


	6. But you can't sleep

**A/N: Heyyyyyyy! I'm back :) Gosh, that was a crazy month. But guess what? I graduated college! Woooo! And now I'm taking prerequisites at a community college... boooo... Oh well. I still have fanfiction. Now that I have a routine back (mostly), I'm hoping I'll find a way to work writing into it. That's the best case scenario. **

**Thank you sooooo much for all the support and love ya'll have been sending me. It's wonderful to hear how many of you enjoy this story, and it really motivates me to keep writing (even if my posts are more spread out, I'm still working!). So thanks again! :)**

**To reward you all for your patience and kindness, this has a lot of Daryl/Kathleen time. Please note this takes place after "Secrets" and before "Pretty Much Dead Already." I've stretched the timeline a bit so that I can get the best out of the character development/relationships. **

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

_"Daryl..."_

_He was everywhere. All around me. _

_"Daryl..."_

_Kissing. Touching. Licking. _

_"D-"_

_I was cut off by the man himself, covering my lips with his own. And holy cow did he know how to kiss. He was masculine and demanding, but also tender and sensual. There was as much dominance as there was surrender. His tongue, determined, strong, and hot, quickly mapped out my mouth. His lips were just a little chapped, pressing roughly against my own. His hands moved from cupping my face down to my shoulders, then down my back to rest at my hips, gripping me until we were flush against each other. Then, further still, his hands slid around the curve of my backside, gripping and lifting me up to wrap my legs around him. Of course I obliged, my own arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers gripping his dark hair between my fingers. I let my nails scratch against his scalp, almost passing out at the growling response he gave. _

_Damn. Why hadn't we done this sooner?_

_My back was suddenly against a wall, his hands moving to cup my face again as he used his pelvis to hold me up, my legs keeping us as close as possible. But then his lips were gone, moving on to my neck, down to my shoulder... I moved my own mouth to his shoulder, biting down gently on the muscle. He froze for a second, hot breath hitting my skin._

_"Careful, Kitten. Don't make promises ya can't keep."_

_I tugged on his hair until he looked me in the eye. _

_"Who said I couldn't keep them?"_

_The grin he gave me was downright feral, and as our lips connected again, I was determined to show him just how little I cared about being careful..._

* * *

WHOA.

WHOA.

WHOA.

WHAT.

WHAT WAS THAT.

How did...

And that...

With him...

Oh sweet heavens.

I just had a dream about Daryl. A very... vivid... dream...

I am so screwed.

I only talked with the guy once! (okay, twice, technically) Now this? Screwed, screwed, screwed. I was screwed. And I should probably get a better choice of word...

"Kat? Kat, you in here?" I heard, along with knocking. Finally, a distraction from my sordid thoughts. But did it really have to be Maggie? She would know. Somehow. She would know. The woman herself entered immediately after. "There ya are. You feelin' alright? You never sleep in."

Sleep in? What time was it? 10am? Wow... I had slept in. Must've been tired.

Or my subconscious really liked that dream.

Shoot. Don't let that thought show on your face, Kathleen.

Let's just go with the first option.

"Kat? Honey, you okay?"

Don't think about it, don't think about it.

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just... weird dreams. Late night. You know how it is." I had gotten out of bed, ready to get dressed while I spoke. But Maggie had other plans as she grabbed my arm and turned me towards her.

"Did you do it?" The smile on her face was huge.

SHE KNOWS.

"Do what?"

"Talk to him, idgit. Did you?"

Oh. Okay. Maybe not.

"... Maybe."

She squealed- which is seriously one of the girliest things I have ever seen Maggie do.

"Tell me everything."

"Can I at least get dressed first?"

She rolled her eyes, sitting down on my bed. "Fine. But you'll have to spill eventually."

* * *

Twenty minutes later and we were both in the kitchen, drinking tea.

"You gonna talk now?"

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. "I went to his tent last night." She grinned suggestively. "Not like that, perv. Not all of us have spontaneous sex like you."

"Hey! Low blow."

"True. It's monogamous spontaneous sex. I'll give you that." She huffed again, pouting at her tea. "So, because I was freaking out, I brought him pain meds as an excuse."

"Spazz."

"Brat."

"Hmph."

"And then I thought he was asleep, but he wasn't. So I went in and gave him the medicine. And then he was teasing me about not talking, and I just... snapped."

I remembered last night, all the nerves and embarrassment. It hadn't gone badly, really... But I still wish I could've been more cool about it. First (well, second- no, third?) impressions... gotta love 'em.

"Whadya mean?"

"I mean that I started talking and didn't stop until I literally ran out of breath."

She snorted. "Just like that? You were terrified to see him, and then boom- you just rambled?"

"Listen, I don't plan this crap, alright. It just happens."

She grinned again. "Go on."

"So I rambled on for a few minutes about remembering him and apologizing for my poor behavior... And of course, he looked at me like I was a freak. And then... he just kept teasing me. Like nothing had happened."

"What?"

"Yeah. He had heard me talking to other people, so he knew I could talk. But then he asked me some questions and kinda left it alone."

"That's it? All that time and you guys just shoot the breeze and then it's over?"

"Well... no."

"Spill, Kat."

"We kept talking. About his brother and stuff. And then he was getting tired, so I was gonna leave... But he called me back."

"He what?" Maggie asked, putting down her tea and leaning closer.

"He... well, he was pretty drugged-up at this point. But he told me I shouldn't be scared of him. That he wasn't a stranger."

Maggie's expression was reminiscent of the one mother's get when looking at their babies. "Aw, Kat. He likes you."

"No, he doesn't."

"He does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Mags, he was hopped up on drugs and sleep-deprived. He didn't even say we were friends, really. I just read into it."

"He likes you. I'm convinced."

"Well, you stay convinced if you want. I'm gonna find something to do."

As I rinsed my mug in the sink and went to find Hershel, Maggie's voice called out to me. "You can't run away from the truth, Kat!"

I could hear her laughing right after and rolled my eyes. She really was a brat.

But at least I'd kept that dream a secret.

* * *

"Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Hershel's raspy voice welcomed me when I finally found him out by the chickens. I couldn't see very many people from the camp, and those I did see definitely weren't Daryl. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that. Definitely relieved- I definitely did not know what to say to him now. Nervous- I'd have to talk to him again eventually, right? Disappointed- I really did like seeing him. Embarrassment- could I even look at him without thinking about that... uh... dream? Neutral-they were probably doing something about the search for the little girl, which was good.

"Yeah, yeah. Maggie already rubbed it in."

He chuckled. "What are your plans for today?"

"I didn't have any. I was hoping you needed something done that I could help out with?"

I watched him in silence for a few minutes. He kept tossing fed to the birds. I knew we'd eventually eat some of them... and I also knew the fate of the others. Neither case was pleasant for them.

"As a matter of fact, I do. We're running low on medicines- we'll have to branch out some more for supply runs soon enough. But for now, there are certain... herbs, in the forest. Flowers and plants. Those should tide us over when we can't get modern medicine."

"You want me to go collect some?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay. Did you have a list, or just get what I know...?"

"There should be a list tucked into the books in the dining room. I've been making sketches of some of the trickier ones, so you'll want that."

"Awesome." I began to turn away, glad to have some task, at least, even if it did involve traipsing through the woods.

"And, Kathleen?"

"Mm?"

"Take Maggie with you. And be back before it's dark. Please."

I sighed, quietly enough so that he couldn't hear (hopefully). "Yes, sir."

Taking another opportunity to look around as I walked back to the house, I still didn't see Daryl. I did see Carol, though, folding laundry. I still wasn't quite sure how to feel about her. Daryl definitely hadn't mentioned her the night before. But that didn't mean anything, really. It was our first conversation. He wouldn't spill his guts to me during our first conversation. Even if he was on drugs.

Stupid complicated life.

Whatever. Where's Maggie? She'll distract me.

* * *

Maggie was nowhere to be found, apparently. She wasn't in her room, or anywhere else in or surrounding the house. Maybe she was off with Glenn... yeah. That made sense.

Should I go find her...? Hershel wanted me to. But if she was off with Glenn, maybe they were working things out? I didn't want to disturb that. Nah. I probably didn't need her. I'd be back before dark anyways. Yeah. I should be fine.

Okay, maybe I was a little nervous. But still. I wouldn't even be going that far. And I knew how to defend myself. Yeah. Fine. I'd be fine.

I'd already grabbed the list Hershel made, and a pail to keep the plants in, so now I just needed to... go. And avoid Hershel, so I wouldn't get yelled at. Good plan. Good, good... Still nervous.

Avoiding Hershel wasn't actually that hard. He, also, was nowhere to be found. Somehow, not running into him made me less nervous. So now, just get to the woods.

To walk by Daryl's tent or to not walk by Daryl's tent... It wasn't out of the way... But...

No. If I saw him, I saw him. No forcing anything. Especially since I already forced last night. Just keep walking. Keep walking... keep walking... ten more feet...

Golden. Trees, shade, birds, insects. Woods, here I come.

I consulted the list before getting too far in. I knew most of these... small plants and herbs that could be used for bruises and burns... but some of these I had never even heard of. Hershel had really been doing his research.

After studying the sketches a little more, I put the list away, eyes focused on the ground as I got deeper and deeper in. Within minutes, I had a small collection going, the bottom of the pail covered in greens and browns. I was just about to consult the list for a sketch of a small purple flower when I heard a branch snap.

No. No way there'd be Walkers this close... Still, I reached into my boot and took out the small knife I kept there. I stood slowly, looking around, taking my time, staying quiet. But before I could turn all the way around, I heard a chuckle. A very human chuckle.

"Well look what we have here."

Of course it had to be the one person I really wanted to avoid (okay, I wanted to avoid most of that group, but he was really up there on the "avoid at all costs" end).

Shane.

I'm not gonna lie. The guy scared me. He just had that look in his eye, ya know? That crazy, 'the ends justify the means so I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want' kinda look. Which I guess was kinda specific, but it still fit the bill. And even though I wasn't looking at him yet, I'm pretty sure that was the look he was giving me right now. Because it's Shane. And he's scary.

Finally turning to face him, he was, indeed, giving me that look. He was doing a good job trying to hiding it, though. He was smiling and standing with relaxed posture... but his eyes were still dangerous.

He was covered in sweat, like he'd already been out for awhile. And I hadn't seen him around earlier, either. So the chances of him following me into the woods were slim. If I were to give him the benefit of the doubt (which is what a nice person would do), I'd assume he'd been out looking for Sophia and just happened to run into me on his way back to camp.

Should I be a nice person, though?

I didn't really feel like it. Especially when he was looking at me like that. Like I was some puzzle he'd been waiting to solve. And now, it seems, he'd found his chance.

"The woods ain't a safe place to be, 'specially all by yourself."

_Yeah, I might run into crazy sociopaths... good call._

He said it casually enough. Polite concern, friendly smile.

I licked my lips and stayed silent.

"Oh, that's right. You don't talk... Why is that?"

_Like I'm gonna tell you_.

He took a step closer. I took a step back.

"Hey, now... You ain't gotta be scared of me. Me, my group- we ain't done nothin' wrong by you, have we?"

_Yet_.

Slowly, once, I shook my head.

"That's right. We're friends. You and me... we're friends, right?"

_No, asshole. We're not_.

I took another step back, hoping that would be answer enough.

"Oh, I see. Well, that's just too bad. I was really hopin' you'd say yes."

_Yeah, I bet..._

He took a step closer, but this time, I didn't move. I was terrified, but I didn't move.

"Know why? Friends help each other out. We could do that for each other. Do you wanna help me out?"

_Never_.

I shook my head.

"Huh. That's too bad. Ya see, aside from your girl Maggie bein' sweet on Glenn, I get the feelin' your group doesn't like my group very much. Which is a shame, 'cause I think we could really... benefit... from each other."

_What the hell...?_

His hands hadn't moved any closer to his weapons, but he was definitely more tense than he was a minute ago.

"It'd be real nice if someone were to talk to Hershel, get him to see things from our point of view. Maybe convince him to share the wealth."

_Oh, hell no is he getting out medical supplies and rations. _

"If you don't wanna help... I mean, you've already lost Otis. Losing some else"- and here he took yet another step toward me, the dangerous glint in his eye spreading to cover his whole face-"would just be... tragic."

_He's threatening me. That means he's gonna kill me. Holy crap. He's gonna kill me. I am so dead. Damnit! Of course the one time I don't follow Hershel's advice and take someone else with me is the time I die. Of. Freaking. Course. First Otis- Otis... Why had he mentioned Otis in his threat...? Unless..._

"So whadya say? Wanna... reconsid-"

"What's goin' on here?"

I almost passed out due to sheer relief upon hearing the gruff tone.

_Daryl_.

He was behind Shane, so I suppose I should have seen him approach... if I hadn't been distracted by my imminent death, I guess. Plus, he was as quiet as a friggin' deer. That man has skills. And he is not wasting them.

The medical side of me checked him first for health concerns. There were no obvious wounds or injuries. His color looked better than he had the other night. Aside from favoring his side just a tad in the way he held his bow, he looked fine. Sweaty and gross, but fine.

The sweat made his muscles all shiny and glisteny. Which wasn't even a word, but heck if I care. Those arms deserved to have words made up just for them.

The girl side of me then checked him for... well, just checked him out, I guess. His hair was sticking to his forehead and neck, little smudges of grime around his hairline like he'd used his hands to muss it up. And, of course, no sleeves.

When I looked at his face, though... He looked... angry? Maybe not that. Maybe... cautious? Whatever it was, he looked upset.

"Daryl! Well, fancy seein' you here. Seems I'm just runnin' into everyone today."

Shane had returned to his friendly smile, turning to face Daryl. I used the opportunity to take a step away from him. Daryl, being the perfectionist hunter that he is, noticed. His brow furrowed just a little bit more.

"Are ya, now."

"Yeah. Kathleen and I, well- we were just havin' ourselves a nice little chat, weren't we, sweetheart?" he asked, glancing back at me.

I'm pretty sure I physically flinched when he called me "sweetheart."

_Did I ask for pet names, creep? Ew._

When he looked back, away from me, I looked over Shane's shoulder. Locking my gaze with Daryl's, I shook my head.

_He's lying, he's lying, he's lying... Please get me out of here._

Daryl walked forward until he was next to us. He looked at me, then at Shane.

"Thought she couldn't talk," he finally said, angling his body so that he was just barely between me and the scary man.

_Aw... he was protecting me. _

Shane seemed to be considering his options... and it looked like he didn't wanna fight with Daryl unnecessarily. Finally, a good idea.

"Well... yeah, I guess I was doin' all the talkin', wasn't I?"

"Were you sayin' anythin'?"

_Yeah, Daryl! Get him!_

Now I moved, just a little, so that I was more behind Daryl.

"I guess that's up to Kathleen, now, ain't it?" He looked me in the eye again, and that sadistic sparkle was back in full force. Beginning to back away, he continued to speak. "Remember what I said, sweetheart. I'll be around."

_STOP CALLING ME THAT_.

Daryl and I waited until he'd left our line of site. When he was, I turned to Daryl, pretty much ready to throw my arms around him-because hello? Knight in Sweaty Sleeveless?- but he had other plans. And he must have seen the 'I'm about to hug you' look on my face, because he quickly took me by the elbow and pulled me in the opposite direction. After a minute or two, we reached a stream.

For awhile, neither of us said anything. I sat down by the water, and he sat next to me; not close, really, but within arm's reach.

This would be our second conversation (post-apocalypse). Not that I was freaking out about it, but, ya know, I kinda was. Especially after the fiasco I created last night. Geez. I'd be surprised if any friendship would rise out of that awkwardness. If he even remembered... he had been on drugs.

_Don't get your hopes up, Kathleen. Be cool._

But then he shifted, resting his arms on his bent knees.

"What, you ain't talkin' t'me again?"

_Oh sweet Jesus he did remember. And he was initiating conversation. Today is a great day (threats from creepy Shane aside)._

"I am!" I all but shouted, awkward as ever, before I stopped to check myself. "I am. I just... I mean... that... was uncomfortable."

He frowned, face turned toward the water. "Good. For a second, thought we could only talk t'each other when one of us was drugged."

_That had been a theme in our relationship so far..._

After a minute, he spoke again. "Sweetheart?" he asked, disgust obvious in his tone.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I feel dirty," I grumbled

"Should you?"

_Why that little..._ _did he think Shane and I... Ewwwwwww._

I reached over and flicked his arm, hard.

"Ouch! Damnit, woman. Stop that."

"Don't be an idiot."

"Fine! Ya shouldn't feel dirty, happy? Geez. I was just askin'."

"Hmph."

We were silent again, listening, watching, waiting... until: "So what did he want?"

"He wants the farm to give you guys all our supplies. Basically."

"Yer just supposed t'do this outta the goodness of your heart?"

"No. He threatened me." Daryl tensed beside me but didn't say anything. "Said it would be tragic if I ended up like... like Otis. Like Shane had had something to do with it. Like... like he'd killed Otis. Which is crazy. It's crazy, right? Shane wouldn't have... But... Oh my God."

_No way. Shane had killed Otis_.

My breathing was picking up speed. I was definitely panicking. I mean, if Shane had killed Otis, he could kill any one of us, right? He could kill Maggie or Hershel or Jimmy... or me.

I felt a hand on my arm, shaking me. I looked over at Daryl, who was shaking me, and saying... something...

"Kathleen? Kathleen!"

Oh, my name. And how nice it sounds when he says it... I guess I should probably listen to what else he has to say, though.

"You alright?"

"Kat."

Not that answer to the question he asked, but an answer nonetheless.

"What?"

"Kat. My... my friends. They call me Kat."

"Right." His hand retreated back to his own lap, leaving a cool spot on my arm. "Y'alright?"

"Yeah, just... freaked out there for a second, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Shane killed Otis."

He grimaced. "What else did he say t'you?"

"Not much. You showed up at a good time."

"Yer sure?" I nodded. "Good. Why're ya out in the woods alone, anyhow?"

"Gathering herbs. Medicinal stuff."

He snorted. "Medical marijuana is still marijuana."

I flicked his arm again, same spot as before. "Herbs, not drugs, idiot."

"Ow, damnit, Kitten. If you wanna keep yer claws, I suggest ya keep 'em to yerself."

_"Careful, Kitten. Don't make promises ya can't keep."_

HOLY CRAP THE DREAM. I HADN'T THOUGHT ABOUT IT UNTIL JUST NOW AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT AND MY FACE IS PROBABLY ALL RED AND DARYL IS GONNA KNOW THAT I HAD AN INAPPROPRIATE DREAM ABOUT HIM AND EVERYTHING IS CRAP AND I CAN'T HANDLE THESE EMOTIONS.

Trying to be subtle, I looked at every bit of forest that wasn't in his direction.

He seemed to pick up on some of the vast awkwardness I was laying down. Thankfully.

"Ya done?"

"Done?"

"Gettin' your drugs and stuff. Ya done?"

"No. Still got a ways to go, actually."

"Ya shouldn't be out here alone."

"Yeah. I learned that lesson the hard way."

He stood abruptly, eyes taking in his surrounds once again. "Well come on, then."

Was he... coming with me?

"What are ya, deaf and mute now? Come on."

Yep. I guess he was.

* * *

"Here."

I looked up from Hershel's sketch. I couldn't tell if the little flowers in front of me were what he wanted or not... I might have smudged his drawing a bit. But I was no longer looking at those. I was looking at the hand outstretched toward me. Between its fingers was a small cluster of purple flowers- darker than the ones I'd been looking at, but very similar.

"What are those?"

"It's what ya want. The one's ya been lookin' at for the past ten minutes are useless. Ya want these."

"Really?" I reached out to take them from him, examining them more closely.

He huffed. "Well if ya like infections, be my guest."

I couldn't help but smile as I looked up at his offended expression. "I didn't mean to say that you were wrong. I just didn't know you were into flowers."

"I ain't 'into flowers,' Princess. I just know my way 'round the woods, is all."

"Whatever you say, Solo."

I threw the plant into my pail and continued on. It was almost full, and I really just need to grab as much of everything as I could. So I guess we were almost done. But I kinda wish we weren't.

Being out with Daryl in the woods... It was nice. Quiet. We didn't talk much; but I didn't really feel like we needed to. I would pick flowers; he'd shoot squirrels (and occasionally help me find flowers, I guess). It was pleasant. Relaxing.

Soon enough, my pail was full of dirt and green, and Daryl's belt was full of fur and red. He looked over at me, saw my nod, and we changed direction. Back to camp, I guess. I never really thought about getting lost out here. Not with this company.

"I've never had squirrel," I said as we walked, glancing down at his waist where the little bodies were bouncing around.

"Nah? Well. Yer missin' out. Squirrel's a fine meal."

I laughed, catching a brief glimpse of his own smirk. "I'm sure."

"Ever hunted?"

"You mean, like, deer and stuff?"

"Mm. Deer. Birds. Fish. Whatever."

"No. Never."

"You ain't one of those 'save the animals' types, are ya?"

I laughed again. "Hardly. I just... never had anyone to teach me."

"Huh."

_I might regret this in.5 seconds..._

"Maybe you could?"

"Could what?"

"Teach me. I mean, you don't have to. But if you want to. Just the basics. I'm a fast learner. And it could be useful, right? No, nevermind. You don't-"

"Fer bein' a little scaredy cat, ya really do talk up a storm."

"Sorry. I just... I get nervous."

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

_Yep. Definitely regretted it._

"After we find Sophia."

"What?"

"After we find Sophia. I'll teach ya how to hunt."

"Really?"

Of course I sounded like a five year old at Christmas.

And of course he smirked, which was both annoying and attractive. But more attractive than annoying.

"Just the basics. Ya should know at least somethin'."

"Sorry. Too excited. But thank you. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I wouldn't want to ruin your street cred."

He snorted. "Street cred?"

"Yeah. You're the mysterious, badass loner. You can't be seen being nice to people."

"Whatever you say, Mute."

I smiled. "That's a joke I used to make with Clarke. My brother. I can't remember if I mentioned his name last night. He always said he couldn't be seen with me in public. It would ruin his image."

Daryl remained silent for a few steps. Then, "Ya miss him?"

"More than anything."

More silence. "It's good ya can smile about it."

"I know. It's been a long time."

He nodded.

"You're going to find, Merle, ya know? He's your blood, and you're his. You guys need each other."

He tensed. "Whatever."

For the next five minutes, neither of us spoke. Eventually, though, there was a break in the trees and I saw the farm. I grabbed Daryl's elbow before we could go any further.

"Daryl... thank you. For earlier. With Shane."

Looking distinctly uncomfortable, he nodded.

"I mean it. If you hadn't come when you did... I don't know what... what he..."

"Hey. Yer fine now, alright?"

Now it was my turn to nod.

"If he gives ya any more trouble, I want ya t'tell me about it, alright?"

Another nod. "I will."

"Good. And don't go anymore places on yer own, ya got it?"

I grinned, continuing to walk. "Yes, sir."

Too soon, we were out of the woods. I didn't want to split up from Daryl, but I had to go back to the farm, and he needed to rest. I saw Carol lurking (... waiting, would be the nice way of saying it) around his tent; but I don't think she'd seen us yet.

"How's your side?"

"Fine."

"Do you want more medicine tonight?"

"Ya should save it for someone who really needs it."

He wasn't trying to be rude, I don't think. Just honest. Still, though... ugh.

"Oh." I tried to hide my disappointment. "Alright. Get some rest."

"Sure thing, Doc."

After that, we split up. I went to the farm, and Daryl... Daryl went to Carol.

* * *

The first person I saw was Maggie, and she didn't look happy.

"What's up, buttercup?"

"Glenn is stressin' me out."

"Lover's quarrel?"

"No."

"Walker quarrel?"

"Yes."

"It's always one or the other."

"Hershel is looking for you."

"Is he mad?"

"Oh yeah. He's probably calmed down some, though."

"Good. Know where he is?"

"Upstairs."

"Thanks."

I left Maggie in the kitchen doing whatever it is she was doing.

"Herhsel?"

"In here, Kathleen."

I went to his room/office, toting the pail along with me. He was facing the window, going through a textbook.

"I got all the plants on your list."

"That's good."

"And it's not even dark yet."

"Mhm."

"And before you yell at me, I know I should have taken Maggie with me, but I couldn't find her, and I didn't think I'd be gone long, and I really wasn't, so I guess it all turned out for the best, but I shouldn't have been alone, and I'm sorry for disobeying you," I said, all in one breath.

He looked up from the book. "It's dangerous out there, Kathleen."

"I know."

"I just want you to be safe."

"I know."

"Is Daryl safe?"

What?

"What?"

"I saw you coming out of the woods with him."

Damnit. Of course you did.

"He found me out there. Kept me company."

"You talked to him?"

"... I did."

He looked back to his book. "You shouldn't get attached."

"What do you mean?"

"They won't be here for long."

"You're making them leave?"

_No, no, no! What about Daryl? What about hunting? Shane can leave. And Carol. But Glenn? Carl? We're buddies!_

"They don't belong here, Kathleen."

"They aren't doing us any harm, Hershel."

"Aren't they? Since they've been here, I've gone through more supplies than I can afford. My daughter has become romantically involved with a practical stranger. And you've lied to me."

"Hershel..."

"They're leaving. If they're around for much longer, they'll get suspicious, and I can't have that. I just need to talk to Rick."

"Hershel, please..."

"End of discussion."

I sighed, looking down at the pail in my hands. Without another word, I turned, and left the room.

* * *

That night, I couldn't fall asleep. Today had been... good. The dream. Talking to Maggie. Then it was bad. The woods, and meeting Shane. But then it was really good. Daryl saved me. We got to talk more. But then it was really bad. Was Hershel really going to kick everybody out?

I sighed and got out of bed. Sitting down was useless. On nights like this, the stars were always the best company.

Careful to be quiet, I slid my window open. It'd been awhile since I'd done this, but I was pretty sure I could still reach the roof if I stretched. Sitting on the window ledge, I eased my way up, until-

"Kathleen?"

Damnit. Caught in the act.

I looked back in the window, toward my closed door. Nobody was there. Then what...?

"Down here."

I looked below me. Was that Carl?

"What are you doing?"

"The roof," I whispered. "Wanna come?"

I could only see him nodding in the dark because he was so pale.

"Wait there."

I maneuvered back into my room, grabbed a blanket before easing through doors and down stairs. I stopped at the front porch.

"Carl?"

"I'm here."

"Come on."

Now that I was already outside, there was an easier way to the roof. A trellis, sturdily nailed to the side of the house, led all the way to the top. Carl followed me over there and I motioned for him to go first.

"When you get to the top, call down."

He nodded, climbing easily. Oh, the agility of children. I don't really miss it.

"I'm up."

I was with him in moments. The roof was mainly slanted, but there were some parts that were less steep than others. We found one and lied down.

"How are you?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

"I've been better. Today was long."

"It was."

"How are you?"

"Good."

"Why are you up so late?"

"Can't sleep. You?"

"Can't sleep."

The stars above us were bright. That was the good thing about being in the middle of nowhere. Nights like this... they were beautiful.

"I'm worried about Mom and Dad."

"Why?"

"They've been fighting. I think. I never see them fight. It's just..."

"A feeling?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think they're fighting about?"

"The group. What we should do. That kinda stuff. Shane and my dad talk about it a lot."

"You and Shane are close?"

"Yeah. Well... we were. He's been busy lately."

"Hm."

"Do you know Shane?"

"We've met."

"But you didn't talk to him?"

"No."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I like being the only one you talk to."

"Why?"

He shrugged. I could feel the movement by my side.

"I guess... It's nice feeling important."

"It is, isn't it? But... Carl... I talk to Maggie and Hershel and them."

"I know. I meant in my group."

Should I tell him? I suppose it would be better for me to tell him than to hear it from someone else...

"I talk to Daryl."

"Oh."

_Nooooo. Don't sound so disappointed._

"Nobody else, though. Not even Glenn."

He was silent for a minute.

"I guess it's a patient thing, then."

"Maybe. I've only treated the two of you."

"Hm. That's fine, then."

I smiled. He really was a good kid.

"Kathleen?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Are we gonna be okay?"

He was a good kid who asked tough questions.

"I think so."

He didn't respond, just moved his head so that his head was closer to my shoulder. He used his own arm as a pillow, and I took the chance to throw my blanket over him.

"Carl, do you know about the stars?"

"No."

"Want me to teach you?"

He nodded, moving even closer. I wrapped an arm around him, and using my free hand, I pointed up.

"See that bright one? That's Andromeda..."

And for the rest of the night, even after Carl fell asleep, I continued to talk. Because honestly, I didn't know if we were going to be okay. But the sky really was beautiful tonight.

* * *

**A/N: Agh, this is hard. I want Daryl to be in love with her immediately, but he still has to be his sometimes-socially-awkward/abrassive-self. I think I'm doing pretty good though... so far, at least. What do YOU think? Good pace? Too fast? That and matching up details from other chapters- my two biggest concerns. I don't proofread unless I really need to. I just... go. So please let me know if you're confused. I probably just messed something up and didn't know. :)**

**And finally some more Carl! Yay! I like writing their scenes. It's so nice.**

**Hope you enjoyed! I'll write more regularly, I hope, starting now. Leave your comments and advice in the review box, and I will see you all again soon! Mwah. :)**


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